"shyly" poems
I saw you one day and never thought a thing
As we grew 3 years, I noticed
My heart decided to thump faster
I smiled shyly at you and you smiled back
So I asked you a question, over a note
You broke my heart...You won't ever know
I cried when you left, clutching your answer in my arms
Sobbing for days, broken inside
Last day of school, you gave me a hug
High school began and I saw you again
My heart betrayed me, no matter how much I trained it not to
You smiled at me, and I grimaced back
I wanted to hate you, and I let you know
You talked to me, asking why?
I can't tell you, I might cry
I keep a straight face, a bravado to cover my feelings
Yet somehow, I wish you could see a ***** through my armor
I have a class with you
I stare at you, hoping you stare back
When you do, I sneer at you and glare
I confuse myself
I have feelings
Dec 9, 2014
Dec 9, 2014 at 2:41 PM UTC
Blonde hair, tight tanned body
Not usually my type but
You stir something in me down there.
You smile shyly,
Girl, you are going to get us into more trouble.
You don't seem to need much coaxing.
Down slides the red cocktail dress,
Your toned body freed.
Black lace ******* shielding heaven.
Soft lips on mine, feels so good
Supple ******* in the palm of my hand,
Pinching ***** ******* a specialty of mine.
Feeling you tremble underneath me
Floods my cup,
I cannot wait to taste you.
I feel your fingers slide
between my thighs,
As our tongues do ballet.
Going to gain our membership
to the sisterhood now.
Wet knuckle status.
We are top to toe,
Better access.
I am starving for you.
It wont take us long to reach Nirvana,
I get it now,
I would have burnt my bra if I ever wore one.
Your ****** and my mouth are a perfect match
I do not usually swing this way
but am honored to dip my toe in your pool.
Crying out you pull away.
That's not how I work,
You will leave complete or not at all
Aug 16, 2017
Aug 16, 2017 at 3:16 AM UTC
he introduces himself
saying quiet, but slipping in, firm:
“something he knows for sure,
no is no”
I, (19, f)
replying, smiling
saying louder, firmer:
“something she knows for sure,
yes is yes”
and he says
“yes, ma’am,”
returning her smile, so shyly,
while blushing, so loudly,
thinking he said something dumb,
looking down at his shuffling feet,
covered in worn out cowboy boots
I like this guy
I like this man.
Oct 13, 2018
Oct 13, 2018 at 7:35 AM UTC
When someone praises me
I'm like a deer
under headlights
Of course I'm delighted
beaming,
even
But I really don't know-
how to respond
...
Do I brush it off?
Act like it's
not a big deal
whether or not
it really is
And move on
to another
subject?
...
Do I just stay quiet
Look down shyly,
and smile?
Or just let the conversation
pass me by?
...
Do I adamantly
reject it?
Refuse, and insist
to the point
that the person
before me
ends up
fighting with me
about
it?
...
Do I roll with it,
faking non-existent
confidence?
Owning up to it,
sometimes
in a joking manner?
...
Do I immediately
switch the topic
to praising
the one
who praised me?
Or have them talk
about themselves
to turn
the
attention from me?
...
Or, do I just smile
large and wide
and thank
the person?
...
I don't know
and it irritates me
that I can even have trouble
with something
as lovely
as a compliment
...
It's not
negative
hurtful
or even
a criticism
...
So why does it
bother me?
...
Maybe
...
I care too much
about what others
think of
me
Sep 27, 2018
Sep 27, 2018 at 9:15 PM UTC
His Down's Syndrome makes
His age a tough guess, I'll
Say eight to ten.
Wide eyes on machines,
Ice cream dripping on the
Pavement outside the
Construction site.
*I wanna work like this when
I grow up,* he says in
Young enthusiasm to a mother
Whose eyes well up with
Gratitude when I approach
And kneel down in front of
Him. *So you want a job,
Buddy?* I ask him with a
Wink. He suddenly remembers
His ice cream and bites into
It shyly. Nods, glancing at the
Tools in my belt, the scratches
On my arms, the brick wall
I've been attacking with a
Wacker jackhammer. Nods
Again. *Well, I'll see you in a
Few years,* I say with another
Wink, this time to his mother,
Who'd look her young age if
Her eyes weren't as tired,
*But you can start with this
And get some practice.* I hand
Him my Stanley Fat Max
Hammer. His ice cream
Hits the ground as he
Recieves it with both hands,
Looking to his mother for
Confirmation that it's ok.
Oh, it is. She mouths a
Thank you SO much...
They walk away, his chatter
High pitched and fading
Around the corner. And I
Head over to the foreman to
Report that I lost my hammer.
Don't ever employ me.
I can work a good game, but
I'm too soft around little heroes.
Jul 24, 2014
Jul 24, 2014 at 5:53 AM UTC
*Hamari Sanson Mein Aaj Tak
Woh Heena Ki Khushbhoo Mehak Rahi Hai*
*Labon Pe Naghme Machal Rahe Hain
Nazar Se Masti Jhalak Rahi Hai*
**O’ even today within my breathes
That sweet smell of henna is still lingering
Upon the lips songs are way-warding
And with mischief, the glances are twinkling**
*Woh Mere Nazdeek Aate Aate
Haya Se Ek Din Simat Gaye Thay
Mere Khayalon Mein Aaj Tak
Woh Badan Ki Daali Latak Rahi Hai*
**O’ inching towards me,
One day he shyly gathered himself
Till today, within my thoughts
His body's youthfulness is still swaying**
*Sada Jo Dil Se Nikal Rahi Hai
Woh Sher-o-Naghmon Mein Dhal Rahi Hai
Ke Dil Ke Aangan Mein Jaise
Koi Ghazal Ki Dhaandhar Khanak Rahi Hai*
**O’ this cry coming from within my heart
Finds its way into verses and songs
As if in the courtyard of my heart
Beat of a poem is throbbing**
*Tadap Mere Bekharar Dil Ki
Kabhi To Unpay Asar Kare Gi
Kabhi To Woh Bhi Jaleinge Isme
Jo Aag Dil Mein Dahek Rahi Hai*
**O’ my restless heart's tremor
Will surely affect him one day
Someday, he too will burn
In the fire of my heart which is raging**
— Translated by Jamil Hussain, Sung by Noor Jahan
Oct 28, 2016
Oct 28, 2016 at 10:30 AM UTC
What She Look Like?
…Like one
tenderly hushing
water in her lap
Elemental peace
No place to go
No more to be
…Like the ocean
in the background
of a photo on a warm spring day
belying
rage
and the random possible
thrash--
out!
at all guilty ******** in her path
Toss in the next sentient soul
who should happen to pass
within range
who should have seen
who should have known
what a storm could do….
Moody in the aftermath
and sorrier than rain
With the tide in retreat
grumbling excuses
Hiding out waist-deep in dusk’s Merlot
Waiting for night to sleep it off
to heal the rifts
cleanse the shame
Rising
yellow, bright— and
“What the hell happened, here?!”
_______________
Her hair
a winter’s tragedy of trees
upside down—
No wait— the wind has put her right
to ragged random branches
swaying, wet with intermittent hues
of dark and silver
caught in collar, flying inelegant and free
at the shoulders of the levee
tossed and softening shyly
sagging jaw and nose a stump of tree
All perspective changes…
if you watch a while—
She’ll raise her eyes
into the sunset
to catch an eagle
entering
flight
…and then you might…
______________
She looks like—
a pudgy robin
querying grass
mud soaked
that hides the fire of her breast
tugging at a worm
more than half her length
“I will feed them, **** you!
Give it up, you son of a snake!”
_______________
...Don’t miss her hour of music though
for anything
Encroaching darkness
from the rooftops
she listens to the hearts she breaks
Remember this in winter
she can give but she will take
it out on February
when you’re longing
for her
Nov 7, 2017
Nov 7, 2017 at 7:57 PM UTC
Let my fingers trace her skin,
Carving paths only we’ve been in.
Lose yourself as we collide,
To find each other deep inside.
My tongue a poet, her body the page,
Writing verses of passion, igniting a stage.
Kissing her hard, left bruises remain,
Her pleasures ache within pain.
Taste her need as she she take mine too,
In a desperate dance, raw and true.
Not softly, not shyly, but we play it safe,
Marking her boldly with our embrace.
Take me like freedom’s last fleeting call,
Break me apart, but rebuild it all.
I don’t want careful—I crave divine,
An unforgettable chaos where our souls align.
Jan 22, 2025
Jan 22, 2025 at 8:13 PM UTC
Venus ascended
smiling
shyly,
painting herself
in sunkissed
earth...
hiding herself
from
lovers eyes.
Mar 14, 2012
Mar 14, 2012 at 8:47 AM UTC
I think about the face of a woman
and her smooth skin
soft lips
the curvature of the Earth is kin to her hips
I feel humanity suffering needlessly
beneath her cells
as I wander her valleys and sand-dune hills
she is the beach
the ocean
the calling of many gulls screaming for food and
I love her white *******
But she is sneaky
and cares for me
caressing is painful
I see it in my own eyes the next day
when the smudgy bruises flit across my reflection
But men understand
without either of us speaking a **** word
we drive
we shout
we catcall
we game
the music takes us and we run for days
doing nothing
anything
and i guess sometimes we ****
Succinct and supernatural
Brawn or brown skin or bright ideas gone awry
always a good day with the gang or the bros
I feel safer in the hoods
I want her to notice me, and to shyly skip over like she did last week
i want to kiss her neck and pull back
soon enough to catch her half-lidded gaze into the abyss behind me
I want to wear boxers and treat her to fancy dinners
But
I want to be her
I want taste a mustache
I want to be lifted overhead like a little sister
and brought back to the earth with sweet
exploration
Impossibility
I want women and men to be the same thing
Apr 27, 2014
Apr 27, 2014 at 1:44 AM UTC
Mesmerized.
No other word can describe the feeling I have right now but that.
The crickets chirping.
The sound of the wind.
The clairvoyant light cascading from the moon.
The cold wind against my bare chest.
The hot air filling my lungs.
The sound of the paper sizzle as I draw a breath.
Mesmerized.
I look at the moon, pondering something great,
longing deep into the moons light, looking for a
Theocratic meaning.
Mesmerized.
I notice a glimmer.
Soon another.
and another.
like a fire starting a chain reaction, twinkling glows slowly appear, joining one after another.
That moon is not alone I come to realize,
As it is connected to all the little lights.
One by one, as my focus clears,
dazzling lights shine over my fears.
A little light show all for me,
All dancing, wanting to be seen.
I bask in this euphoric moment, my prayers answered, I peer shyly at this gift that I have captured.
The wind kisses my ears, slowly going down my neck,
it kisses my navel, giving me a loving peck.
Mesmerized.
No. Not mesmerized, but in love.
In love with the beauty I have been able to witness, Her beauty.
I stare longingly into Her.
The lights in the sky seem to smile at me,
Knowing just how I feel,
Warmness filling my heart, creating a seal.
In love.
I am In love.
Oct 27, 2014
Oct 27, 2014 at 11:21 AM UTC
mountains shadow,
the dark canvas of the sky
spotted with rhinestones-
starry winking fireflies
as the dreamy drifty clouds
are shyly shifting by,
the strange symphony of a hum & buzz
& the distant crickets cry
awakens other-worldly feelings.
Vaguely hypnotized by its mellow
cruising down this lonely road
mesmerized as the moons gaze follows-
me, sat at the back with the window rolled down
as the nights cool breath gently sways the weeping willows....
I want to live in this moment for eternity
In this nocturnal roadtrip to infinity.
Jun 27, 2021
Jun 27, 2021 at 10:51 AM UTC
"hello."
He mumbled shyly
He was cute
Bright green eyes and
Messy black fringy hair.
Texting
Calling
Chatting
Was our pastime together
Months later..
"Happy Valentine's day!"
"Happy Monthsary, babe!"
"Happy Anniversary!"
It was all too fast
But fun
"Who's that?"
I asked, looking over his shoulder
As we were sprawled on the sofa, cuddling.
His text read,
"hello."
To a girl
Another
And I felt sad
Because those were the words he first said to me
He said,
"Nothing."
And I believed it.
But then he stopped texting me
Calling
Nor chatting
He stopped remembering
Valentine's Day
Our Monthsary
Our Anniversary
and stopped saying
I love you
Boys.
Boys could say he likes you,
Boys could pinch you playfully,
Boys could love you endlessly,
And say you didn't mean a thing.
Boys
Jul 17, 2015
Jul 17, 2015 at 4:46 AM UTC
~
he sings to her
in floral bloom,
melodic language
all his own;
his magnolia
blossoms heralding
the rays of warmth,
his utterance to come.
its shyly spreading pink,
and softly budding green,
proof enough
to her aching heart
that winter's cold
cannot for long contain,
within its icy grip
any life that
from their union came.
for deep within
these roots,
yet he lives again
in breathing form;
that every year
til him she holds,
winter's loss
must yield to spring.
she beholds
this heralding;
as with slowly,
warming heart
she tilts her ear,
listening;
waiting for
this dearest voice.
for to her ears alone
and to her heart only
a rising medley,
tender melody,
a lullaby returned,
to her...
for her...
he begins
to sweetly sing,
unmistakably,
recognizably...
his magnolia lullaby.
.
~
post script.
*inspired by a dear friend's photo and accompanying caption...
"Logan's magnolia showing her first winter bloom."
a remembrance of her title bequeathed at his birth;
a reminder of his legacy that has not, will not ever end.*
Feb 20, 2015
Feb 20, 2015 at 9:56 AM UTC
Love Came to Us
Love came to us in time gone by
When one at twilight shyly played
And one in fear was standing nigh -- -
For Love at first is all afraid.
We were grave lovers. Love is past
That had his sweet hours many a one;
Welcome to us now at the last
The ways that we shall go upon.
4.3k
Life is like a melody
Strumming to a love song
He who always smiles gently
Begins to hum along.
Sitting at one corner
She looks at him shyly
He sings his heart to her
Someone he loves dearly.
Coffee is their favorite
To share with each other
One in each episode
Of their love story together.
He strums while waiting there
Brown teddy bear by his side
Flowers placed everywhere
For proposal to his future bride.
He nervously make his vow
Asks for her hand in marriage
She kisses him on his eyebrow
Crowd cheers as they embrace.
©joieyin
Sep 29, 2018
Sep 29, 2018 at 11:37 AM UTC
Tell me why it has to be this way. I don’t want to hold on to one side of this conversation and have the other person falling off a ladder. Yeah, down there on the ground. Get up and look at me!
I wasn’t sleeping, I swear—he said hastily.
Yeah, whatever, buddy. Tell me what you’re doing in my head?
Repainting. Repainting over the old spots, the worn out spots.
But those are the best spots, the only ones with character. Can you tell me who sent you?
No sir, I cannot.
Then it is ok. I suppose I’ll have to watch as you put varnish on top of every dream and aspiration I have ever had. Do you know who the girl was that I first loved in the springtime of youth’s blossom?
It was Ashley, sir.
I believe I did not love her, guest worker. What are you wearing there?
A pair of overalls, a cape. What’s the difference?
I’m the one who speaks to you first, and don’t be short with me. I don’t like you standing there in an open room with no windows. How is that possible?
I’m sorry, boss. It’s just, I finished painting over that memory but the paint’s still wet. You loved her very much, I’m afraid.
Ashley? I never gave her a second thought. Perhaps you are right. I only remember kissing her shyly and asking permission to see her ******* They were the biggest of all.
Yes sir, I thought so too. She was a sweet girl though.
Sweet? I’ll tell you Mr. Painter; Ashley was the first girl I kissed. I kissed her in my first love’s house, a different girl. I loved Ashley more than that first love and I’m serious. No one can ever make me forget the day we lay on her mother’s sofa in the basement.
--I’m sorry, sir.
No, say it is impossible. Say you have some form of soap that can make up for your treachery!
No, I’m only wearing orange overalls and marching on the word from above.
But who sent you!!!? I have to know. I’m crying.
Justin, it’s ok. It’s Ashley. She said you need to stop crying. She has a family now.
Well, alright. That house. That basement. That unconscious.
We are worms, sir. Worms, slithering and boundless. Please accept my apologies.
No, it’s quite alright. If you must take every memory of my second love, take my third. And take my fourth and every other woman who crosses my path. It’s not my choice to keep them captive in the imagination of what could have been. You know, it’s been years since I truly cared about someone—
Since Ashley?
Who’s that?
Ashley.
Goodbye forever, harlot.
Sir, you’re being brash.
No, I don’t remember that name and I hold you at an arm’s length in my mind. Please, finish what you’re doing and allow me to rest. What color are you painting the room?
Green, I’m afraid.
Then so it is. Goodbye, good friend. Goodbye sweet love. Forever, in the spring. Temporal boundaries and endless playlists. Be the verve, be the melody. I love you!
So it is. Sleep well, sir.
Oct 18, 2010
Oct 18, 2010 at 10:24 PM UTC
What counsel has the hooded moon
Put in thy heart, my shyly sweet,
Of Love in ancient plenilune,
Glory and stars beneath his feet -- -
A sage that is but kith and kin
With the comedian Capuchin?
Believe me rather that am wise
In disregard of the divine,
A glory kindles in those eyes
Trembles to starlight. Mine, O Mine!
No more be tears in moon or mist
For thee, sweet sentimentalist.
4k
I live so shyly it could be
taken as an apology but
it is only simply that
I seek to walk gently
As I live where thick
forest grow deep within
a hidden society places
you will never know.
I am a gentle giant the
King of the jungle a great
power house, walking
softly and slowly.
As you look into my eyes
rivers and waves will
channel and flow
between us.
I sit so still in the jungle
resting so deeply the world
is centered around me.
No human, monster or
giant cat could ever disturb
me my heart strong and enormous.
I am a fortress great castle made
of stone as many softly creep
past me.
I bear my chest a treasure chest
a temple for my heart.
As I open my inflated chest
puffing out my heart I breath
my love into this world.
Always holding a perfect space
for my a green house for
my family to grow.
I have the wisdom of many elders,
the strength strong men and the
touch of a gentle baby child.
Covered in warm soft fur we
hold each other within the
lightest kindest touch.
We know a gentleness can
only be built on enormous
power and strength.
As I am born to hold cherish
and protect as you will see
in my eyes I cradle my
family within my heart.
As an amplified love burst
through my chest I feel every
follicle of hair search to
express.
Although never anger me
never threaten my family
as I will drown you out
like thunder.
I will be all the storm clouds
of your life turning your day
into night as I shatter your
world with rain.
I will grow like KING KONG
curse and dominate your day,
you will wish you never
crossed me.
I am the beating heart of my
family as they all beat inside
of me so maybe no giant is
ever bigger than me.
Don't throw your lies at me
as they will bounce of my
silver chest as I do know my way.
I can be your worst nightmare
the softest mother and the
gentlest grand father.
And all the love in my chest
passes through my skin as
though it was paper thin.
I feel the jungle grow all
around me as I pour my
love into my family.
Give it to me, for all the world
all I want is to love my baby
and I will be so happy.
Living within a pool of amplified
love that turns brighter jungle a
electric field green.
As I really love my family
be careful with their sensitivity
as all their love sponsors me.
But be gentle and I will love
you like my family
as I am the
GREAT GORILLA
Apr 16, 2015
Apr 16, 2015 at 7:59 PM UTC
My teacher once asked
a short simple question.
She had asked,
"What do you want to be?"
Raised arms answered her query.
Open palms each belonging to excitable children.
Wide little eyes looked up at her.
Hands began to flail in the air...
Ever so hopeful of being chosen.
So that they could voice their aspirations.
So that they could begin to share.
One by one,
they each was given the opportunity.
Turn by turn,
boastful were some
while others spoke quiet and shyly.
Then the teacher stopped short.
Not before expressing her delight.
She was in awe of such young minds...
Having had such great wings
to eventually take flight.
Then she explained...
What she had initially meant.
Confused looks all around including me.
She rephrased the question,
*"What kind of person...
Do you want to be?"*
There was silence.
No arms shot up to meet the subject.
I don't recall having raised mine,
but I remember telling the teacher...
An answer (I was confident), she wouldn't expect.
I stood at my desk,
proud and tall...
And told the teacher
that I wished to be a person...
Well loved by all.
She smiled and I did too.
I felt it was a good answer.
She nodded to signal for me to take my seat again.
She paused before speaking,
and not a moment later.
She said,
*"That would be nice.
To be loved by all.
But that's close to impossible.
A big wish for someone so small."*
I had heard her words clearly...
However I didn't understand.
My brows furrowed...
And I was deep in thought...
Still I couldn't comprehend.
28 years later...
Here I sit,
looking back to that time in the past.
How time flies...
It simply ticked away...
All too fast.
Till just then I was still that boy...
Who tried hard to please.
I wanted to prove that it wasn't impossible.
You can be loved by everyone,
and you can do it with ease.
But now I have learnt.
Now I have found meaning
and understanding in my teacher's wisdom.
It took me a while but...
I know now...
That wishes and reality don't work in tandem.
You can choose to care and love,
everyone you see.
But to expect everyone to love you the same...
Is sheer
impossibility.
Aug 26, 2016
Aug 26, 2016 at 9:12 AM UTC
my polygamous relationship with you distances me from the monotony of monogamy and makes me feel lonelier than the loneliest mundane monogamist. my mere apologies for my misendeavors, the malnutritious morals of my miseducation propose metal mirrors and castaways controlled by cutting carvers, craving crazy letters and loyalty from lengthy lies and lonely lives. lethargy overtakes and vowels reign, raining drops like rainbows and rocks in rivers, rusting relationships, rusty railroads at intense intersections entwined in everything inside and nothing on the outside anymore except these
muscles. we are back at the beginning.
my mind marvels in the magic of the memories, the madness of the morbidity and the hesitations of your reaction. his, I take, is misunderstood as my misfortune, but it is not a miss, my fortune: it is a fox in feathers colorful like friendships 'fore their forfeited and feigned approval, forced for fear of polygamy tho' it promises the purest pleasure, the most personal independence and precious pearls of princes, princesses, powerful, plight-less
poetry. peace surrenders,
souls surprise themselves, surprise their cells, call for curious catastrophes to take place. colorful and calm they coincide with cooperation that can not contain the context of truth, of teases, of teasers and targets and tonal dualities and we endeavor, we endear you, we dare destroy the darkness of the devil in its disguised diamonds.
words lie at my feet like pebbles of poetry and I promise personal demise, deterioration and ridiculous obsessions- there's madness to be had and fragments to be written and I play with silly alliteration instead!
serious and serene you stare as if my sanity has slowly faded and I sternly helplessly smile shyly. I suppose you are sincerely offering me your blessing before parting, so stumbling slightly I surrender…
if this is the prevailing promise of mere mortality, I'm graciously aware I was worthy of words.
Jan 11, 2014
Jan 11, 2014 at 2:01 PM UTC
106
The Daisy follows soft the Sun—
And when his golden walk is done—
Sits shyly at his feet—
He—waking—finds the flower there—
Wherefore—Marauder—art thou here?
Because, Sir, love is sweet!
We are the Flower—Thou the Sun!
Forgive us, if as days decline—
We nearer steal to Thee!
Enamored of the parting West—
The peace—the flight—the Amethyst—
Night’s possibility!
3.5k
Australia takes her pen in hand
To write a line to you,
To let you fellows understand
How proud we are of you.
From shearing shed and cattle run,
From Broome to Hobson's Bay,
Each native-born Australian son
Stands straighter up today.
The man who used to **** his drum",
On far-out Queensland runs
Is fighting side by side with some
Tasmanian farmer's sons.
The fisher-boys dropped sail and oar
To grimly stand the test,
Along that storm-swept Turkish shore,
With miners from the west.
The old state jealousies of yore
Are dead as Pharaoh's sow,
We're not State children any more —
We're all Australians now!
Our six-starred flag that used to fly
Half-shyly to the breeze,
Unknown where older nations ply
Their trade on foreign seas,
Flies out to meet the morning blue
With Vict'ry at the prow;
For that's the flag the Sydney flew,
The wide seas know it now!
The mettle that a race can show
Is proved with shot and steel,
And now we know what nations know
And feel what nations feel.
The honoured graves beneath the crest
Of Gaba Tepe hill
May hold our bravest and our best,
But we have brave men still.
With all our petty quarrels done,
Dissensions overthrown,
We have, through what you boys have done,
A history of our own.
Our old world diff'rences are dead,
Like weeds beneath the plough,
For English, Scotch, and Irish-bred,
They're all Australians now!
So now we'll toast the Third Brigade
That led Australia's van,
For never shall their glory fade
In minds Australian.
Fight on, fight on, unflinchingly,
Till right and justice reign.
Fight on, fight on, till Victory
Shall send you home again.
And with Australia's flag shall fly
A spray of wattle-bough
To symbolise our unity —
We're all Australians now.
3.5k
I used to be your birdhouse.
I could coax you out from your seat in the treetops
from behind the camouflaging greens
and watch you edge out shyly with the wind ruffling your blush feathers.
You'd cling to me when the spring showers started falling
and I could keep you safe and dry, I could always do that.
I'd be there to hear your youthful songs, and I'd whisper back in a language just we knew
and then I'd hug you goodbye and watch you step precariously from my perch,
flapping in the wind, unsure, unaccustomed.
and I'd be there for you the next day and the next
because I thought you'd still need me.
I never thought I'd see you, the point of a flying V
soaring with your head held high,
not even glancing down at
my tired wooden walls
and faded empty perch.
Jun 6, 2014
Jun 6, 2014 at 1:32 PM UTC