She’s Sitting…
She sits but feet from my touch,
her eyes speaking to all who see.
If I can love her this much,
would she ever care for me.
Who has the time for taking food,
head is lead by heart or ringed nose.
Are my feelings so misunderstood,
a body’s dying while love grows.
Comments
Even ROSCOe'S POEMS
unread
I wonder if all readers
r dead
Thank god i am being read
as Now
I post not ...instead
so I'm always red
Loved
I was having some time off of writing comments
on the Undiscovered poems,
and waiting for some of the others
to join the commentary box.
You let them off the hook as it were.
If you notice out of sheer bloody mindedness,
I will take yours out of that place.
I was going to leave this for a while
to see what Happened
Loved Happened LOL
Take care young Bard, Yours Ian.T
sorry u should have
confided in me earlier
as it is u do read me
others won't do
Thank you,
Thank you for your concern and your comments, but i'd be more concerned if i had not written this piece. I write for the pleasure of writing, and i love working with Neopoet and reading others poems and thoughts. Though i don't always comment, i read loads of poems here. Regards Roscoe...
Roscoe
A sad piece that seems to be of someone watching a loved one fade away, I hope fiction but fear not,
Yours Ian.T
Thank you Ian,
Thank you Ian, and i'm happy to inform you that it's fiction, and not about someone dying in the sense of dying. But dying for someone to return the feelings he has, that silly feeling when you feel as if you can't do anything until you conquer someones affections. Regards Roscoe...