Next Season Poem by Rachel Henley
Next Season
The cruelest of loves,
a love that will last forever,
but amounts to nothing.
The looks, are just eyes meeting.
No spark on the other end,
nor buttlerfly or flicker.
Love that has no hope,
does not die any quicker.
For there is always that fake glimmer,
the shining of beacon of another reason,
yes, they may not love me now,
but it will different, next season.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Delivering Poems Around The World
Poems are the property of their respective owners. All information has been reproduced here for educational and informational purposes to benefit site visitors, and is provided at no charge...
4/19/2024 10:06:22 AM # 1.0.0.1119
