Met her in a shaded wood,
Raven hair, flaxen, waxen,
Over almond eyes, dark and bright.
Above unsmiling lips of red.
I pondered whether I could or would
Approach her, or even should.
Unsmiling, she
Stood alone there,
With almond eyes, raven hair
Head turned to me,
Red lips parted, still unsmiling,
Yet so beguiling.
And I there, smiling.
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Comments1
Great situational poem that made me smile!
Thank you, Eugene. Love is born in the strangest places, say a shaded wood, and, with the proper care and feeding, never dies. With luck this poem will never have an ending.
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