A Player Still - Poem by Cindy Wright
Dead to all feelings he admires his rose of all days
She sits in wonder of his wasted heart and adverse ways.
Adverse to loving or allowing to be loved
his ways killing him slowly from within
His rose blooms full of life and love
feeling his cold touch as he plucks her once again.
Looking to one another, not knowing what to do
his rose wonders why he's dead to all feelings
What has he been through?
Poet's Notes about The Poem
Comments about A Player Still by Cindy Wright
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love You