The Lover - Poem by Michael Shepler
What drove me to devote
My life to erasing the delicate
Frown lines around the mouths
Of discontented women?
Later, gazing into perfect chaos,
A ceiling fan,
Whirling & cooling an anonymous room.
1979. Half my life over.
This, I thought, must be what
A Mayfly feels; boundless ecstacy,
In a span so brief
You could hardly call it Time.
m. shepler 8/1/06
Comments about The Lover by Michael Shepler
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
Do Not Stand At My Grave And Weep
Mary Elizabeth Frye
I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love You