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She was shy
My Love she was…
She was Shy,
Like that little butterfly,
Her looks mesmerized,
And apprised,
The true beauty of love…
She was my Love…
I loved her,
And wanted to tell her,
But the instigation,
Was of less appreciation…
She Was Shy,
From the beautiful eyes,
I surmise…
The beautiful eyes,
That nobody dared despise…
The beautiful face,
That was an ace,
Assuaging my sorrows with grace…
I loved her, and she did
I know it…
Since she met my eye,
With such a sly…
But only for the last time…
She was never there again…
from this write, i picture two lovers encountering each other upon a "chance" meeting, but never having a "chance" to be. lovestruck in a moment. i believe in this as plausible because i have experienced it. strange... the way love goes.
i've read several of your poems, and you have lots of raw talent. a natural ear for the sound of things. i hope you take the time and initiative to refine that gift.
peace and much chicken grease
(to quote a friend)