If I become depressed
And fail to see you
In your floral dress,
Then my weekend will be
Funeral-parlor sad,
Living a life of Ash Wednesdays alone.
I’ll call you on the telephone,
And tell you that your feminine voice
Is the entire panacea that I need
When my world is vacant parking lots
Infiltrated by degradation and thorny weeds.
If you allow me to hold your hand,
I know that you will understand
My overwhelming desire
To make you the object of intense devotion.
Please, don’t walk away and trample these emotions;
We may not meet again for several lonely lifetimes
Until the planets are aligned mystically perfect.
Uniquely Uriah Hamilton. Beautiful, sad, and always worth reading. Kindest regrds, Sandra
Your journeys at the edge of darkness are always fascinating. - Will
Wow...You've done it again...ANOTHER MASTERPIECE! ! ! Keep writing so I can read more! Love Ya!
A delightful piece of poetry Uriah. So ethereal, soft and sweet. A joy to read and a pleasure to find. Love and hugs Ernestine XXX
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Wow...I'm impressed by this poem....it's darn good! ! Hugs, Dee