PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

She was standing in the doorway, smiling,

With raindrops on the windowpanes singing,

The season's first rainfall brings with it memories,

Of that long-gone, fresh, November morning.

                    

So what if the past is just a shadow,

Every moment is treasured in my mind's eye,

Where everything is as it was, there I see her,

As I flashback on that fresh and lovely morning.

                    

With the rain clouds vying to kiss her,

She was the embodiment of beauty,

Wrapped in her shawl and waving at me

She was the life and soul of that morning.

                    

I have no metaphor to describe her beauty,

But her smile, her grace and the memory,

Shall always come and possess me, whenever,

I recall that unforgettable morning.



She is in a far better place than I am,

Free of sin and oblivious of sinners,

So when the first clouds of winter come by,

She too smiles from above her heavenly greeting.



Many a girl and woman have I met and known,

Some of them kept saying she couldn't be real,

But she and her ethereal being did love me,

And this is what's wonderful about this morning.