The dancing music in evening of the eight;
the twentieth street bar
as i stood there pondering, a mellifluous' tone struck my mind
a white figured, resembling like an 'angel' performing
a soul pure as wine.
since i rendered the day i saw you
every night I look up and write,
making me a fool to the world-
they are now tired of it and I can't help
the sand is sinking, I have nowhere to search for
if' time machine existed it would be a different story: reality keeps on slapping and I can't think of anything but to look.
maybe we meet again from where we started
but this time in a new scenario.
Evening Of The Eighth
Arrkimong Jamir
(C) All Rights Reserved. Poem Submitted on 08/21/2021
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Poem topics: angel, music, night, world, evening, soul, white, write, mind, street, pure, story, fool, reality, tired, Valentine's Day, time, I love you, I miss you, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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