vern eaker Poems

She was an angel although not pure...
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If love were a color what would it be?

Red like the roses vibrant and dark,
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Unique, like me
How could that be?
That is not individuality.
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````````````````````````Silhouetted against the shimmering lake
With its waters flowing cold
Tasting of its coolness
Motionless alert sensing my aroma
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A look

That is all there is to start
Often a look can pierce your heart
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The world awaits me once again
Calling me to places I’ve never been

Searching and seeking things unknown
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Complacent love is love still
Often time wears against our will
Dulling the way our love may feel
Without notice gone is the thrill
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Poetry what does it mean to me?
Much more than a fancy way to speak
Allows others to feel things inside of me
Through thoughtfully chosen word
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A more sincere appreciation, never had by a man
Than that which I hold for you my number one fan
For you gladly read each word I write sincere or fluff
I have not the words to truly thank you near enough
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It is said the pen is mightier than the sword
It should stand to reason all that's needed is word
Words that tell of love and respect toward all
Word to inform everyone the world is small
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