My Love

Yes, my sweet, I have carried a torch for you since the days of yore,

Carried it like an old valentine crushed within my jacket pocket,

Reminds me of youth.

 

Yes, my sweet, I have prided myself with my flattery to best you,

But those quirky lips best me every time,

And I find it charming.

 

Yes, my sweet, you are the apple of eyes of plenty,

But you are more than just a fruit to me,

You are life.

 

No, my love, I shall not fall for you,

For you have me floating,

And nigh am I to reaching you.

Reviews

[fireblossom]

I like the voice you use here. I feel the soul of an old poet in this piece. I especially like "Carried it like and old valentine crushed within my jacket pocket". That line says much.
Nice poem all around.