Butterscotch Hello - Poem by Kewayne Wadley
How are you. Is everything fine.
I don't want to burden you
badgering you with other religions other than yourself.
Out of all the hellos you receive on a daily basis.
I thought of you as a sincere gesture.
Curious about your day.
The steps your feet have walken.
If you've gotten the rest you need to ease the pain felt against your heels.
That the load against your shoulders is lightened completely if not by a smaller margin.
That your day has went as smooth as the breeze.
The lotion that rolls smoothly against your skin.
The essence of cocoa butter
Further bringing out your complexion.
The genuine rise of your cheeks revealing the coming of your smile
The horizon of true happiness,
The ease of stress felt in uncomfortable situations.
The hard work scuffed through the emotions of a deranged boss
Unable to handle life outside of work.
Interfering with the hymn of your heavenly voice. How hard it must be.
The Complexion of an angel whom only longs to fly.
To Fly into the spring of each breath breathed into your lungs.
Bright hues of the highlight of your hello.
Flourishing in the distance of the horizon
I didn't want anything but to wish you a hello.
The many thoughts of you that escape each thought.
This time I didn't want to let you get away, as the elusive vision of you in deep thought.
Instead of debating who would make the first move.
You or I.
Time is much too short, waiting for a what could be.
Stubborn to the desire of what's kept inside.
Not waiting to rush
I don't want to burden you or badger you with religious facts other than yourself.
Or Tell you how much of a gentleman
I am, to pull the chair out at your every thought.
Nor how much I've thought of being your hardest good bye.
Your favorite thing to see when your eyes open.
I hope you've had a good day
As you are appreciated
Comments about Butterscotch Hello by Kewayne Wadley
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love You