What a shrew
She's cold, best to say
Her smiles solemn
And her hugs are of rare day
Her distaste towards sweet talk
Towards hand holding and kisses
Leaves flowers shriveled
Makes animals vicious
She's home at last
With the scarf released
Sits outside in the night
With heart chocolates to eat
She sings and laughs
And blushes, oh my
Has this shrew been smitten?
With flower reviving smiles
She implies
There's a glow in her face
And a knock on the door
She skips with grace
Could there be any more?
They sit outside, with heart chocolates to eat
Sing, laugh, and dance, to once again repeat
"Can I hold your hand?" He dare ask to say
She pauses and smirks
Looks at him with quirks.
Nods her head no and dances away
What a shrew
She's cold, best to say.
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Author:
Adam Shirley (
Offline) - Published: August 8th, 2018 00:09
- Comment from author about the poem: A poem dedicated my other half, one doesn't always have to be lovey-dovey to show their love.
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 36
Offline)
Comments3
Love comes in many forms but it is the strongest of all bonds.
Couldn't have said it better myself
Love manifests in many ways - enjoyed the read.
Thank you Michael
A compelling read of what a shrew does in certain situations - - loved the quirky flow to this piece.
Thank you very much Fay
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