I tried to write a poem
Because my love she asked me too
She said , "my love, please write for me"
"You say such pretty things
And when we pass from this sweet life
Your thoughts nostalgia brings"
Suddenly her fragrance fills me
Like she is in the room
I close my eyes and flowers bloom
Like photo`s in the air
My sweet fair love reclining now
Like nostalgia , but she is there
Shaking cobwebs from my brain
The mist of coming rain
Morning dew from a lowly branch
Fluttering wings of dove
You live in these and other things
My angel from above
How to make you understand
That life without you would end
You are my sweet eternal love
Our tenderness in all travail
With the certainty of a river`s bend
You rise before me frail
I hope you understand my Sweet
Mere words cannot replace
The warmth we hold so dear
The veils of heaven and the corridors
Of hell will never make this clear
I`m you`re canvas and you`re my lace
Such a sweet piece. I have felt this way before. Trying desperately to put into words the pure and true emotion of love, and rarely does it come off the way that I intended. I've written for many loves, but I don't think that many of them really understood what I was trying to say. This is a familiar piece to me; dear to my soul. Nicely written.
Please forgive my lack of wholeness, and eloquence when seeking to express my love for this poem, because its Beauty has rendered me speechless and broken my heart. I will print it out, so I have it with me to read. I hope you know what you have created here, and I'm so happy to read it... I can't stop now, I have to read more.
This is such a meaningful piece filled with such beautiful images. I like where you say, with the certainty of a river's bend you rise before me frail. This is such a beautiful image here. I can feel the passion the narrator has for his true love. I also like where the narrator says, I'm your canvas and you're my lace. It depicts how the narrator and his true love where meant for each other.
Sweet, tender, loving...all of those things we cherish, want and need from our beloveds. Your writing is your gift, among other things, that she will hold on to.