I have been trying to pen a poem for some time,
still waiting to write the first word
A beginning is a delicate time,
asking nothing but to wait your turn
In a net, I have gathered all love poems,
from the first up to the last
From infinity going backwards,
to the staines of our future's looking glass
Peering through this stained glass window,
with each color, rhythm and metaphors changed
What once was viewed as poetic clones,
placed under the light would rearrange
How does one write a love poem,
to a star laid down to rest in peace?
It's light continues throughout the dark,
as my pen awaits its reach
The heavens are holding endless stars,
each one shines its very own light in the dark
Let your poetry shine and warm all who read
It is the spark of inspiration that sets them apart
Though a million light years pass,
beyond the eternal gates of time
I will patiently wait for your return,
through the stained glass window of time
I have been trying to pen a poem since she passed
I guess my pain is mixed with the stain
The concept is there somewhere in the air,
still waiting to find the first word for my pain
A marvelously sad, But so profound and deeply felt, Poem, So well expressed and yet so painful, Anyway and non the less.
Thank you dear Sandra, I'm glad you liked it, poetry sort of Helios the pain a little bit, But even a little bit helps.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
And the wait was well worth it! For both you and the reader! Such a magnificent poem, Bill!
Thank you very much Richard, I really appreciate your comment and I'm glad you enjoyed it