Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Jan 2014
Life's cruel chess game
Finds foes for you in sand grains
And I'm sitting here a shivering wreck and all I
can think about is the nape of her neck

My hand involuntarily flinches
And I wonder if she's, too, thinking
''his hand ..I want to feel his hand''

but all assembled various gods
may have bizarre, differing plans.
Written by
Dave Bosworth
469
   ---, CR and ---
Please log in to view and add comments on poems