The Woman Who Isn't A Song
Angie, you smile at all things in your front,
Envy escapes from what you do possess;
Because You Can't Always Get What You Want,
Your heart just shows humble indebtedness.
I grasp that you are not Under My Thumb,
For you freely form your own decision;
You just Paint It Black or white in outcome,
Because life brings both mirth and depression.
You view that I am not a Tumbling Dice
To be thrown, to land wherever they may;
Even Wild Horses can never devise
A force that can madly drag me away.
You are not as those Honky-Tonk Women
With wild and uninhibited lifestyle;
Nor a Ruby Tuesday to be ruined,
Instead, as Rolling Stones, you are worthwhile.
Copyright © Bernard F. Asuncion | Year Posted 2025
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment