Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
His voice is like an ocean, Crashing over me in waves, Consuming me instantly. WHOOSH! Now gone. His smile is like a fire, Intense, flickering flames, Uncontrollably burning. SIZZLE! Now only ash. His eyes are like a lake, Reflectant pools capturing beauty, Rippling in the storm. DRIP! Now overflowing. He is a mountain, Tall, strong and proud. Beautiful, but jagged. Worn away with time.
0
Jan 26, 2014
Jan 26, 2014 at 10:48 AM UTC
Blame It On The Weatherman
His voice is like an ocean, Crashing over me in waves, Consuming me instantly. WHOOSH! Now gone. His smile is like a fire, Intense, flickering flames, Uncontrollably burning. SIZZLE! Now only ash. His eyes are like a lake, Reflectant pools capturing beauty, Rippling in the storm. DRIP! Now overflowing. He is a mountain, Tall, strong and proud. Beautiful, but jagged. Worn away with time.
jessie-bowman
Written by
Jan 26, 2014
Jan 26, 2014 at 10:48 AM UTC
Request permission to use this poem