Esther............ (2) Poem by Gabe Mendoza

07/31/17

And every love so seems to expire;
In DeaTh is what keeps the desire.
What separates her from the rest
Is how I saw her as one of the best.

When the night closes in and I can't feel a thing,
I remember the words I said and the joy it brings.


08/06/17

The roses fell to the soiled ground,
And I remember the furious sound.
There was a time I picked flowers in the summer.
In the EVE of a midsummer's day of my lover,
I've lost the feeling somewhere in this deep slumber.

Will I see her dreamy eyes today,
Or am I stuck in this endless Gray?


08/07/17

I'm standing alone in the rain,
And I see her coming on again.
Dressed in Pink and Black,
It seems like a full-on attack.

Often it's said there's a fine line between love & hate,
So where's the line drawn for us to be able to relate?


08/22/17

The buds of May bloom in Summer's offering.
I thought it was going to be Love's uncovering.
In the fairest of sunlight shades, I always thought of her well.
When all things begin to fade, I find that my heart still swells.

In the DaRk I stand on my front porch, seeing her over there.
This is not the last question I want to say to myself: Where?

The only memory left are strands of her hair as we walk away.


08/25/17

Lo! The JeW shows herself through a window;
I saw the pain and sorrow in her eyes that glow.
From Summer's past these feelings do not get old,
Like the necklace her heart is worth more than gold.

My Fair Lady, the Fair Youth in us all,
Year by Year I hear your beauty call.
And if we never meet for whatever reason,
I wouldn't accuse you of committing treason.

I Love You now like I did that night.
I'll never lose what she put into sight.


08/26/17

~~~~~Her eyes, those dreamy eyes~~~~~

~~~~~Her stare, the one with care~~~~~

~~~~Her hair, that used to come in waves~~~~

~~~~Her lips, I swear, I'll take it to my grave~~~~

September, after the summer has ended:

That's when I go out with the words that I penned.
That's when I'll leave one last thing I used to send.
That's when I'll call my pretty JeW flower a friend.

When the sun sets low, and the skies go dark,
There won't be anything left to make a mark.