Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
I wish that we had met as children.
And played all the games that children play.

I wish that we had run together
through the fields,
and laughed and joked those days away.

I wish I had been there to see you,
Blossom into the woman
you came to be.

And I wish in that hour
of self awakening,
I was the only boy your eyes could see.

Your first smile, first kiss,
first love, first promise,
and every other first along the way.

Now I look into your eyes
and see memories
of an alternate reality,
and all I can really do is smile.

Because no matter the past
you are here with me at last.

And a last love
beats a first love
by a mile.
This poem has been posted to my you tube channel please check it out.
www.youtube.com/@tsummerspoetry
Thanks
Then, there were the moments
When the air was crisp and sweet,
When you threw me funny comments
That, in truth, I failed to meet.
When the shadows of the forenoon
Shone like icicles of blue
And the mood was one of indigo
A coalescence, Love, of you.

Then there were moments
When the doubt began to seep,
Where anxiety intruded
And bled me of my sleep.
In those darkened halls of velvet
Where crimson nightmares lurk
And the horror of a memory
Where dread began its work.

But then there were the moments
Where the sunshine had its way,
Where the liquid green of leafage
In the crystal breeze would sway.
The platitudes would vanish,
Condescension's cease,
When the softened light of raindrops
Kissed your mirrored pond of Peace.

M@Foxglove.Taranaki.NZ
12 January 2025
A ghost walking the day
like a spy upon a dream,
she stares out of a window
arrayed in black bombazine.
Hair tinged with a little grey,
such sadness she bears alone,
drifting through the quiet rooms
of a cold and empty home.
Saving her love for loneliness,
wrapped in an airy husk,
night cannot come to soon
and the veil fall with dusk.


© Pagan Paul
.
clicks like an ice cube clattering
off her teeth. my love, she talks
like a cipher spins. still, ringless
and moonless she hangs there
like invitation; some bootless
rocketship i fancy myself to be.
Next page