Treasure Island

Gordon D Wilkinson

(Oxford - England)

Fates fickle hand


I have missed so many years of your life, but I know fate did not have us set to collide until it was ready

Most people place demands on relationships that are impossible,
making it impossible.

Love is but a moment in time, which only lovers can extend to fill their lives as long as they want it too

You have invited me in as I am, and that alone leaves me awestruck at times

Eventually you did collide with my heart

Love found its place amongst debris that was there

Sweeping away the dross, making a clean start in which to flourish

Fate has at last taken my hand and said now is the time

Submitted: Friday, April 09, 2010
Edited: Friday, April 09, 2010

Do you like this poem?
0 person liked.
0 person did not like.

Read this poem in other languages

This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.

I would like to translate this poem »

word flags

What do you think this poem is about?

Comments about this poem (Fates fickle hand by Gordon D Wilkinson )

Enter the verification code :

There is no comment submitted by members..

Top Poems

  1. Phenomenal Woman
    Maya Angelou
  2. The Road Not Taken
    Robert Frost
  3. If You Forget Me
    Pablo Neruda
  4. Still I Rise
    Maya Angelou
  5. Dreams
    Langston Hughes
  6. Annabel Lee
    Edgar Allan Poe
  7. If
    Rudyard Kipling
  8. Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
    Robert Frost
  9. I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
    Maya Angelou
  10. Invictus
    William Ernest Henley

PoemHunter.com Updates

New Poems

  1. A Lesson From Golf, Edgar Albert Guest
  2. Man's Experience, Edgar Albert Guest
  3. Under A Tree, Edgar Albert Guest
  4. Business, Edgar Albert Guest
  5. A Place At The Top, Edgar Albert Guest
  6. Life And Hereafter, Edgar Albert Guest
  7. Can't Frighten Them, Edgar Albert Guest
  8. The Man Of His Word, Edgar Albert Guest
  9. The Man I Like, Edgar Albert Guest
  10. The Road Builder, Edgar Albert Guest

Poem of the Day

poet Henry David Thoreau

My books I'd fain cast off, I cannot read,
'Twixt every page my thoughts go stray at large
Down in the meadow, where is richer feed,
And will not mind to hit their proper targe.
...... Read complete »

   
[Hata Bildir]