Young man, why do you look so old?
I'm not sure; it must be my beard,
Or the many strange stories I've told.
No; it must be this hat, it looks weird.
You see this stick beside me,
It helps me herd and defend,
But it was no use, she made me weak at the knee,
And then my bones seemed to bend.
In scorching heat I took off my shoes,
Blood fed by love; fire seemed fair.
Love chooses us, it's not love we choose,
And a fine choice love made when she was there.
Madam let me say no more,
I still have to watch the door....
A nice and well articulated romantic poem written with conviction. Thanks for sharing. Please read my poem MANDELA - THE IMMORTAL ICON.
wowwww! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! 'Love chooses us, it's not love we choose, And a fine choice love made when she was there' wisdom beyond your years! i enjoyed that........ AAAAAAAAmmmmmmAAAAzzzzzzzIIIIInnnnGGGGGG!
its attention-grabbing, congratulations! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! !
You make a good point. love does choose us we don't get to choose. Lovely work.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
a brief moment and piece...you hanged me through! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! nice.