As the ground turns white,
I'll remember my first true sight,
of you nervous and confident,
strong and lost,
searching for meaning.
A smile would cross my face,
knowing we weren't so different,
as I would rise from my seat,
trying to calm my racing heart,
to muster a simple 'hey',
my breath was gone looking you in the face,
you become more breath taking with every step you take,
your still shaking but thats alright,
am i too...even if i dont show it as much,
so mend your wounded heart piece by piece,
and know I'll always be there...
-Dying Romantic 9: 42 PM January 31st 2007
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem