When she walks by,
she stays behind,
her sillage wrapped
around my mind.
I want to tell her
how I feel,
write on her skin
quivering quill.
But I just stand there
blundering , squeakly
waving my arms
weakly and meekly,
while on a treadmill,
daily and weekly.
Jun 26, 2016
Jun 26, 2016 at 10:46 AM UTC
When she walks by,
she stays behind,
her sillage wrapped
around my mind.
I want to tell her
how I feel,
write on her skin
quivering quill.
But I just stand there
blundering , squeakly
waving my arms
weakly and meekly,
while on a treadmill,
daily and weekly.
