Like a wandering troubador I roam through life.
Not because I look for something, but rather for someone.
Many years ago i saw her, yet her lovely countenance always remains foremost in my thoughts.
Her rosy cheeks, her full red lips, the soft touch of her skin on mine.
For only the briefest of moments were we together,
Yet all of time seemed to stand as nothing more than the backdrop to the drama of our love.
Then, all too soon she turned from me, and faded into obscurity.
Now I wander, looking for my lost love.
No longer a young suitor, I am an old man,
Looking for nothing more than her lips warm caress before the cold embrace of the grave takes me.
Many years it has been, and many more shall pass, but still I wander, looking, hoping, that she is still mine.
2007-03-11
10:33:16
·
10 answers
·
asked by
Anonymous
in
Arts & Humanities
➔ Other - Arts & Humanities