6-3-13
Her tractor beam eyes draw me near,
Eyes with the ability, allowing men to leer;
A lowered bridge, allowing people to cross,
Across the wood and the moss;
Seeing her again, to me what matters most,
Where ever she may be, inland or by the coast;
Feelings for her, within me I own,
Sipping wine, along the river Rhone;
Drawing on my experience to further understand the likes of you,
Leaves me not knowing about the complexities you do;
Which clearly explains you're far too deep to understand,
Even when our time is very well planned;
When the time has come and I can no longer solicit,
Not even one morsel, not even one bit;
When things begin to go awry,
The only thing left for me to do is die.
6-3-13
Copyright © Shan Omeara | Year Posted 2015
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