Bernard Shaw


My Hand. - Poem by Bernard Shaw

Guide this my hand; guide it well,
Over virgin paper so pure and white.
Let me a story of love tell.
Love that is filled with delight

May my hand never fail or tire,
Words of wisdom flow this very day.
For love is filled with wanting desire,
Yes this is what I want to say.

So come gentle words of sweetest love,
Help fill this patient sheet of white
May it be about a Damsel’s glove?
Or of kisses stolen in the night.


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Read poems about / on: night, love, kiss



Poem Submitted: Tuesday, November 4, 2003



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