PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

The sound I hear,
Could it be her?
Footsteps soft,
she's coming near

The things I drop
I see them clear
Here she comes,
She's coming here

Her warm embrace,
The perfect length
around her waist
Her pale eyes, gray

The hours, the day
They blend and fade
But when she's there
I forget to care

Time means nothing,
Heart beats still
The thrill, her smile
The air, worthwhile

I stare, I blink
I breathe, I speak
The truth, it flows
Her grin, it glows

Usual thoughts have faded to gone
For hours I'm paralyzed,
I'm strung along
By the scent of her self
And the look in her eyes
I believe that she has me
This feeling cannot be wrong.