Hello PoetryVoting

Vote

Voting-Boards

Home

HomeFollowingInboxNotifications

Read

ReadLiftedFeedsHeartedHistoryMy poemsNew poem

Explore

ExploreOrbitsWordsTagsClassics
Log in
0
Stars
0
Embers
0
Alerts
0
Inbox

Vote

Voting-Boards

Home

HomeFollowingInboxNotifications

Read

ReadLiftedFeedsHeartedHistoryMy poemsNew poem

Explore

ExploreOrbitsWordsTagsClassics
Log in
0
Stars
0
Embers
0
Alerts
0
Inbox

Promises..

Come.., let me paint you a mental picture, there’s a room, with a window and door, there inside, a lost and broken man, with head in hands, sat down on the floor. A table, looming large, takes centre stage it’s full of papers, cast hastily about, and as his eyes gaze sorrowfully on them, he starts to cry, when he really wants to shout He wants to shout out loud in his anguish he wants to scream, and blame it on fate, he’d taken a gamble and lost all that mattered one roll of the dice, meant it was much too late. His love was gone, and never returning she was gone, taking his heart in her hands she was so tired of his broken promises, leaving him alone, with their two golden bands. Come..., let me paint you a mental picture, as hope rising, he stares at the door, and there she was, his love and anchor One last chance, he whispers, just one chance more!!
Request permission to use this poem
Written by
penny-granger
English
Published
Oct 13, 2010
Lines·Words
47·167
Notes

LadyP © 2010

Permission

Request to use this poem

Tell penny-granger how you would like to use it. We review requests before forwarding them.

AboutBlogFAQPrivacyTermsContact
© 2009-2026 Hello Poetry/v27.0 by @eliotyork
Explore
Hello PoetryVoting
Write