I’ve lost count of how many eyes
have crossed mine
I’ve lost count of how many “be mine”
have my lips said
The clock stopped at midnight
And a new list seemed to be in the making
The one that accidentally touched my hand
The one that gave me his chair on the bus
I fall in love with his beautiful hair
And her gorgeous lips
I imagined our story together
The sleepless nights, the morning kisses
I picture the perfect date, the perfect encounter
Our first kiss, our first fight
As if I was the master of puppets
As if I was the author of my own love story
She with the tattoo
He with the earring
He with the starring in the middle of our work shift
They with a thousand looks over their shoulder
Cinderella had to give up her hopes at midnight
I, as well, have to stop looking back
Because with the rise of the sun
I will fall in love again
With his voice
With the way she walks
With their majestic brown eyes
With the perfect love story
That will never be written
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Comments1
this is so beautifully spun
from that vivid bus couple, imagery
to your yearning's rhythmic poetry
thanks for sharing, dear poet
you have a wonderful talent..
(personally
my charred fingers, have long
given-up hope
of entwining with another's
at least in this lifetime,
yet
in that call, where
my green eyes, gaze upon a couple
gliding through life
upon each other's wingtips
like you, i too
can't help but recall those past brushes with love
i was gifted by fate and I too
begin, to roll a film reel in my mind
enriched bright by my past, yet dimmed black n white, noir
in an overwhelmingly bleak, theme
lacking faith in a future
where those sun kissed hallowed clouds of love
may once again gaze upon my path in life...)
Happy New Year, here's hoping that True Love
visits you in these coming twelve months
the kind of Love, where you start accumulating
'your last, first's' of a lifetimes budding romance
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