Is It Poetry
And As Your 'Teacher' Watches 'You' - Poem by Is It Poetry
and even as your 'teacher' watches 'you'
and your each 'dropp' that falls on me, your rain.
and i am tired and i am thirsty and it's only just apart.
and we are, as we now are, it is love and it is art.
and i know that it is bitter, some times sour, even tart.
and as my fever climbs, you help it even off to sleep.
and as it drips there slowly, yes so slowly down, a golden breach.
and as you do your very best, i can't but try my best to fast.
and each yellow sun so high and bright, it burns my eyes.
and still it rains, you turn and smile, as it rains a little more.
and each dropp that drips, i see it dripp on me and i ask please.
and comes more rain, as it pours it's heart out there on top of me.
and as your hunches lift and part, they over power me.
and you keep me warm, you hunker down, you lift and dry my lips.
and rain warm falls and as it cools it runs the length of all i see.
and down the small of your majestic and beauty of your curved back.
and through that small and rustic, royal scenic ever lovely crack.
and above me as each moon, in reach i'm always smiling at.
and each dropp of rain seems bitter and it's sour, even tart.
and as your teacher watches you, she would only hold it back.
and i am tired and i am thirsty and it rains, and it pours.
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