There, under the stuttering street light,
She stands,
Tucking away those loose strands
Of her hair, filling the night
With thick acrid smell
Of her cheap perfume, her bright
Red lips painted well,
Slightly parted in a smile,
Mixed with the sound of her laughter.
She looks at you,
‘Tis Just a fleeting glance,
She smiles, inviting you,
And you walk across in a trance
But ‘tis now you notice her face,
Strained of happiness, though sought after;
Those red lips are blood red
And it was her cry instead
Of laughter
That you heard…
A good narrative story, well articulated and nicely penned. A lovely piece of poetry. Thanks for sharing and do keep it up. Please read my poem MANDELA - THE IMMORTAL ICON.
beautiful poem carrying her to stand in front of us with her sobs piercing the heart....
A brilliant poem. I will have to give you 10 for this. Her laughter are actually her cries of her soul.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
very good poem, thanks, I invite you to read my poems and comment,