To see your face, my heart, it skips a beat.
Your words, a gentle breeze, do kiss my ears.
I am you, when your eyes, my eyes do greet.
Together, here, erases all my fears.
The time we spend is short, but sweet. It ends.
Alone, forlorn, alas, to fight the swell.
In parting, Kid, for pain my heart contends.
In sight must bid, I, on this, not to dwell.
Assured inside, away you go. Alone,
A tear does slip my hold. Alone. Be Bold!
I fail. Like rain, it pours, regret a drone.
To breathe, a strain releasing pain, so cold.
I wish to only explain my heart to you.
My hope is thy heart shall withstand this coup!
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Comments about this poem (#1 by Nick Rohner )
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
- Gordon D Wilkinson
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
William Butler Yeats
(13 June 1865 – 28 January 1939)
Harivansh Rai Bachchan
(27 November 1907 – 18 January 2003)
(01 January 1950)
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