Home
ABOUT US
Recent Posts
- manchester allfm 96.9
- Eternally Yours.
- Torn Apart
- For The Love Of Pat Benatar.
- For The Love Of Female Songbirds
- For The Love Of True.
- For The Love Of Santana
- For The Love Of Slow.
- For The Love Of Into.
- For The Love Of Wilson Pickett.
Recent Comments
- on Back And Forth
- on Back And Forth
- on Pitch Perfect
- on Pitch Perfect
- on For The Love Of Music
Categories
- Animals (70)
- Family Life (279)
- Friendship and Trust (123)
- Hope and Encouragement (159)
- Irony / Inevitability (139)
- Justice / Revenge (30)
- Laughter & Tears (36)
- Life/Living (312)
- Music (186)
- Nature (2)
- Nonsensical Madness (183)
- Obituary / Memorial (56)
- Radio (106)
- Reviews (7)
- Romance (219)
- Sport (51)
- Sunday Poems (15)
- Uncategorized (2)
POEM ARCHIVE
ONLINE SERVICES
BOOKS
Contact Us
Useful Links
October 27, 2019
Her tender lips, define her face.
Her swaying hips, so full of grace.
The little dimples in her cheeks.
The lilting accent when she speaks.
Her mind complex, so complicated.
Her answers not anticipated.
The thoughts that linger, when she goes.
The vision of her upturned nose.
Her cheeky smile, her goodbye glance.
Her carefree walk, her sprightly dance.
The lasting moments, there to treasure.
The mine of memories, that bring pleasure.
All that she is, I wouldn’t change,
or one thing, would re-arrange.
To me, Mendotta, was my fate.
To me – the world, alas too late!
Posted in: Nonsensical Madness | | Comments (0)
No Comments »
No comments yet.
RSS feed for comments on this post. TrackBack URL