| |
My love,
The feeling for me is the same as it was then,
when I first touched your soft gorgeous hand
as you passed me a glass of wine with my dinner.
I remember dreaming about kissing your full lips
later that night and holding your soft waist and hips
in my arms; not knowing if you felt the same way about me.
I would wait patiently for hours to pass so that I might
find another reason as an excuse to call and hear your voice
say my name in a way only you could. I would put my ear to the phone
trying to be closer to you and although I knew
how silly that was, it didn’t mater to me…because with you
silly was how I became whenever I said your name.
And so, these many years later, on our anniversary;
I remain, your silly old fool…
and I still love you more than ever…
2008 © T Sheridan
Ted Sheridan
|
|
User Rating: |
|
10.0
/10
(2 votes) |
|
|
|
E-mail this poem to e friend