I met her there

I met her there
She crossed my path
It was a miracle

I loved her then
She mocked my tie
It was amazing

I dreamt she left
She ran away
It was frightening

I knew her aunt
She wore a wig
It was outrageous

I found her purse
She drank my wine
It was sparkling

I cried for hours
She danced in Mame
It was choreographed

I adored her shadow
She wept at bluebells
It was so humbling

I grew her artichokes
She knew a Lord
It was aristocatic

I need her still
She died of Aids
It was so tragic

◄ Christmas in paradise

Passing Love ►


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Jeff Dawson

Thu 5th Feb 2009 19:49

Hi Sam

A cruel twist at the end which decieves the reader. Like this style you've used and the way you've played with words.

She sounds special to you, best wishes Jeff

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winston plowes

Sun 14th Dec 2008 21:29

Hi Sam, Some striking words here. Started to read the interesting format and paused to think... If this was one of my poems it would probably end in tragedy... resumed and sadly it did. Thanks for posting it up here.

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