The lost poem
She fooled me
last night.
Unsought, Yet,
She came.
I'll sleep over,
I thought
I heard some whisper.
Walking in,
Tickling unbending chin,
With long, with keen,
Her delicate fingers.
Before the break of dawn,
Bleary eyes were opened,
When "Erato" defected
and I was alone.
False hearted, wending signs,
Faithless,
My pensive temper.
Drowsy swelled,
Disarranged this head.
For I lingered
in the smarting bed.
To flip them,
Many times,
With silent rage.
Piles they were
a useless page.
No trace I found,
No trace of one sublime
I lost that poem.
Poetry Ad-Free Upgrades
Vote for this poem
Please Comment On This Poem
|
|
|
|
|
|
| oldmedina | 
|
|
|
