For you, my sweet;
an apple in your mind's eye;
a strudle in lieu of a pie.
We would, if we could,
walk the sandy shores;
there the birds always croak,
It is a form of a joke,
following the birds at high tide;
we wince laughing at the pelican's poke,
and amuse ourselves at the albatros' blue hide.
There are too many kinds of birds to count,
so we leave it to La Mer to taunt;
I have heard every bird in there;
Sandpipers running like crazy as we stare;
the swirling music breaching the clouds
and the shift of rain chasing the forgotten gulls.
Stan Petrovich's Other Poems
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Comments about this poem (Saint Valentine by Stan Petrovich )
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Still I Rise
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
William Ernest Henley
Did you read them?
- Fate, Lonely Welshman
- For Her, Lonely Welshman
- Matthew Ch.7 V.12, bryan wallace
- Red Ceramic Poppy, John F. McCullagh
- Rainbow, SALINI NAIR
- The Color Inside My World, Mikey Bachman
- Haiku #4, Eric Micha'el Leventhal
- My Ramdan, My Repentance, Ahamad Ilyaas Vilayathullah
- She in Desert, Akhtar Jawad
- A bucket of paint, Piyush Dey