Three
When the kiss grows cold
And the scent is pale but lingering,
Hazy memories gather at the door,
As though the years had called them home once more,
While the rumors of our being are racing
The world
That never learned our names.
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
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
