She goes to my head
like a glass of high
class ***** Henry
said, invades my night,
and dreams to such
an extent that nothing,
is quite what it seems.
She touches my heart,
and mind so that I
walk my life, and day,
like one who's blind.
She moves me to
words I seldom use,
make poet of me that
words often fail or use
too ill, so that I can
feel but feel, but I
love her still.
She turns me inside
out, and outside in,
leads me to dark night,
and days like one one
minute a saint, next
one who moves to sin.
She brings tears to eyes
with both humour,
and scorn of words,
and deeds, she plucks
the ***** of my heart
until it bursts or cause
to bleed, but still my
love I offer, my word,
and cause I plead,
wherever it may lead.
She goes to my head
as often to my heart,
as often I see her come
and go, I love her all
else is lost or found,
I love her good,
I love her sound.
Apr 26, 2016
Apr 26, 2016 at 3:34 PM UTC
She goes to my head
like a glass of high
class ***** Henry
said, invades my night,
and dreams to such
an extent that nothing,
is quite what it seems.
She touches my heart,
and mind so that I
walk my life, and day,
like one who's blind.
She moves me to
words I seldom use,
make poet of me that
words often fail or use
too ill, so that I can
feel but feel, but I
love her still.
She turns me inside
out, and outside in,
leads me to dark night,
and days like one one
minute a saint, next
one who moves to sin.
She brings tears to eyes
with both humour,
and scorn of words,
and deeds, she plucks
the ***** of my heart
until it bursts or cause
to bleed, but still my
love I offer, my word,
and cause I plead,
wherever it may lead.
She goes to my head
as often to my heart,
as often I see her come
and go, I love her all
else is lost or found,
I love her good,
I love her sound.
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