To see your face, my heart, it skips a beat.
Your words, a gentle breeze, do kiss my ears.
I am you, when your eyes, my eyes do greet.
Together, here, erases all my fears.
The time we spend is short, but sweet. It ends.
Alone, forlorn, alas, to fight the swell.
In parting, Kid, for pain my heart contends.
In sight must bid, I, on this, not to dwell.
Assured inside, away you go. Alone,
A tear does slip my hold. Alone. Be Bold!
I fail. Like rain, it pours, regret a drone.
To breathe, a strain releasing pain, so cold.
I wish to only explain my heart to you.
My hope is thy heart shall withstand this coup!
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Comments about this poem (#1 by Nick Rohner )
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(28 November 1757 – 12 August 1827)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(27 July 1870 – 16 July 1953)
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