Her hair is back,
Her face is full;
Like the moon in the sky.
Her dress is beautiful,
Like an NYC building at night.
She comes from a tree,
The same one as the violin.
See the color of her skin,
Hear the sound of her accent.
In front of her, I sit like, Columbus,
Looking for the edge of the earth;
To turn the page,
To change the world.
At the edge of the earth,
She stands in the upper right corner.
The pages run down to the seabed.
Even she can’t turn the wave over.
Two chairs are free.
On the table, a candle
Has been set aflame.
She stands by
An arrow on the wall.
I stand on the other side,
In hopes of being her beau,
Of which, cupid has no hold.
Her hair is,
Soft as the wind,
Straight as the strings
Of a violin.
Her lips are like bows.
She makes her cords talk
Like a pro.
How can I ask her out
If I’m shaking so?
My voice and words
Sound like a storm,
Compared to hers.
I’ve made it to the edge
Of the world, and
What have I come back
To show?
But the most beautiful damsel.
End April 18-19/2017
-
Author:
Cyprian Van Dyke (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: July 10th, 2017 10:10
- Comment from author about the poem: What made reading this worthwhile for you??
- Category: Love
- Views: 29
Offline)
Comments2
What made this worthwhile to read? Are you insane? Why, the personification of a violin of course! Who does that? Wanna know who? You do! Haha, you're crazy, and so is this. Crazy inspirational. Good show, chap, good show.
Haha, Thank you for this review! It made my day!!! 🙂
Her hair is,
Soft as the wind,
Straight as the strings
Of a violin.
I love this verse and you are showing me a great writer. Thank you. You are good as it can be.
Thank you, very, for this lovely review!
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