Nero CaroZiv

Sweet Madeleine - Poem by Nero CaroZiv

This night is so starry, divine over a busy street lane
I am waiting for beloved, sweet Madeleine
Out of this sea of faces like a phantom of delight she will appear
I am so anxious, I am so expecting and jaded for my dear

Among the crowed of city walkers I am waiting for Madeleine
In front of the theater with gothic gates and notorious picture show
Every night I wait thru all the week at half past ten
Sweet Madeleine, please hurry cause I love you so

Ah, it is already ten minutes passed the hour
I forgot my umbrella against this spring late shower
Ah Madeleine, sweet Madeleine she does not come
To boredom cloudy night of desperation I would succumb

Oh let it go! this evening I am waiting for Madeleine so beautiful, shy and meek
I have brought her some balmy vermilion lilacs
I bring them to her fresh every day of the week
Madeleine, she is like that, she really is her own like

This evening I am waiting for Madeleine
But it is raining on my lilacs with heavenly drive
It rains like this every day of the week
But Madeleine is delayed, she does not arrive

Oh Madeleine there is nothing in my veins except Madeleine
I will wait for her for hours in this pouring rain
May be something happened; may be she is a little late
May be she forgot tonight we have this wonderful date

Oh Madeleine I cannot count the clock that continuously does tick
May be she forgot; Oh may be she got sick
Oh I am tire to wait
For this wonderful date

I am waiting for Madeleine
But I am getting cold, soaked and wet
I have been shivering soaked since half past ten
Madeleine, Madeleine is not here yet

But tomorrow I will wait for Madeleine
I will bring some balmy fresh lilacs again
I will bring them the entire whole week
Madeleine, she will really like that beautiful, shy and meek

Tomorrow she will be coming, my own, my sweet
Were it ever be so airy joyful breath taking tread
My heart will hear her street steps and will throb and beat
Would it be my final eternal dust bed
My dust would here her walking and would beat
Had I been laid in my grave for centuries dead
I would start to tremble and to shake under her feet
Just to watch her white legs under her skirt in purple and red

Copy Rights 2010
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Topic(s) of this poem: love

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Poem Submitted: Sunday, July 13, 2014

Poem Edited: Sunday, February 8, 2015

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