I touched her cheek, so lost in love.
She touched me back, my loving dove.
"Next week," I said and smiled a bit,
"Yes," she replied, eyes golden lit.
We smiled again, some crooked smile,
Each holding on for just a while.
We knew the end had come to love
We'd done it, said it, now to move.
Distance kill our physical touch
Memory serve us not as much.
Four hundred miles I drove away
Calling her name as tears took sway.
Please tell me what you think
Comments
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For me, this did not hold together as well as some of your poems. Maybe its just my mood.
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Aah! Sad to say this was an attempt to show feelings on losing a love (physical or real?) through departure to another part of the country. Well, I wonder, was this a reflection on reality or merely fiction? You choose, I pass.
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This is very good! Very true as well.
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awww... yes, distance is a killer. So is time; or the lack of it rather. You have captured the pain of it. Thank you so much for your entry.
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