AH, God, the way your little finger moved
As you thrust a bare arm backward
And made play with your hair
And a comb a silly gilt comb
Ah, God--that I should suffer
Because of the way a little finger moved.
The Way Your Little Finger Moved
Stephen Crane
(1)
Poem topics: hair, play, god, I love you, I miss you, finger, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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