Pot Of Gold Poem by Mark Curtis

For every tear you ever cry,
let me be there to wipe them dry.

Or when a dream goes up in smoke,
make fun of me, someone to poke.

If things go bad whilst at the gym,
to cheer you up, i’d say “your thin”

And those who make fun of your hair
just send them my way, if they dare.

You are not perfect, you do have sins,
but oh my God, those awesome pins,

It’s when you walk into the room;
my mind goes blank, my heart goes boom!

Write from the soul, my words to thee,
if could, would write, on bended knee.

I’m always here, on you i’m sold,
i wish i was your pot of gold.

copyright 2009 Mark Curtis