End of summer;
Green turning to amber, gold;
Leaves falling down,
Sad and alone.
Yet here we sit,
On our stained wooden porch,
On our broken bench swing,
Listening to the sound of our heartbeats,
Pound,
Pound,
Pound.
We usually end up here to watch the sun go down,
Turn the sky a lovely shade of fire,
And watch for the first star to appear
[So we can wish upon it,
I always wish for the same thing;
You and I to be together, forever]
I want for our summer to never end,
For us to grow old together,
Sitting here,
Evening after evening,
Cuddled up,
Hand holding,
Kissing.
This is our porch,
[I saw you carve our names]
And if you and I should end,
This place won't ever be the same.
Author notes
11. Stained Wooden Porches
This turned out soppier than I thought
=/
Ah well, hope ya like it
A contest entry
- PIF Lucky Dip by catalyst..
650 points, ended December 1, 2008, 19 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Anything I should change?
Comments
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I really loved the format of this
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BEAUTIFUL
THIS WAS SOOOOOOOOOO LOVELY
IT REALLY MADE ME SOPPY LOL IN A GOOD WAY LOVED THE WOORDING, LOVED THE LAYOUT
YOUR BEST YET
TRULY BEAUTIFUL
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lol i look forward to what this will turn out like
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Finished =]
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