Wanda Daugherty Poet Prose Poetry

The Thief

The Thief

He did so much to make me love him.
Wildflowers on a summer's day;
A lone carnation after dinner.
A kiss beneath the midnight moon.

Oh yes, he did so much;
Crime was stacked, on top of atrocity.
A walk in the gentle rain,
A stroll in the forest.

He worked so hard to make me love him.
His back was broad;
His arms were strong and brown.
His hair the color of chesnuts. 

He did so much to make me love him.
His dark liquid eyes, would drink me in,
He made me feel every bit a woman.
And that I was beautiful in his sight.

He built a love, 
Strong enough to last forever;
Then in one inexplicable moment 
He was gone.

Gone like Pluto back to Hades;
Lost forever in the night.
A part of me went with him;
Lost forever in the dark.

He worked so hard to make me love him.
Then like a thief he went away,
It was like a cruel joke, that lasts forever. 
I think I love him still.

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