slaveangel{HM}
11-09-2006, 01:10 AM
He sits at his desk
Pen resting on the paper
A white sheet flawless and smooth
A desk lamp his only light
Watching the paper before him
A blank canvass to which he must fill
With poetic skill, integrity and flair
Taking the pen in his knowing hand
Writing the first stanza with love
Watching the words come to life
In his creative mind
He writes of a great love
A ballad, a dedication
To the one who inspires him
Further fuels his will to write
Does she know that her laughter
Brings me the greatest joy
Knowing that her heart quickens
When such stories, are written
It is as if her face materialises
On the paper to which my words are written
With admiration and care
Knowing that something was always felt
Although denied makes things seem
A little more worthwhile
26th of April 2005
Pen resting on the paper
A white sheet flawless and smooth
A desk lamp his only light
Watching the paper before him
A blank canvass to which he must fill
With poetic skill, integrity and flair
Taking the pen in his knowing hand
Writing the first stanza with love
Watching the words come to life
In his creative mind
He writes of a great love
A ballad, a dedication
To the one who inspires him
Further fuels his will to write
Does she know that her laughter
Brings me the greatest joy
Knowing that her heart quickens
When such stories, are written
It is as if her face materialises
On the paper to which my words are written
With admiration and care
Knowing that something was always felt
Although denied makes things seem
A little more worthwhile
26th of April 2005