Could It Be?
sometimes i wonder if she knows
what she's asking or what she shows
i look at her and my imagination runs wild
mostly when she looks at me and ask
to talk a while
a precious delicate flower
waiting for her chance to bloom
and i a worthy less pretender looking
for more than i'll ever ask for
as each day passes
i think of her more and more
and wonder if she thinks of me
as a man or as a bore
she doesn't know that i appreciate
the way she is
nor does she see me watching her
(when ever i get the chance)
wishing to be a part of her life
that part that lives
that part that gives
that part that she can claim as
undeniably hers
with love for her too much for words
( this goes way back ; long before poetrysoup ever existed. the old fashin way, on paper, to
old girl friends, or girls i had an enfactuation on at the time. as you can see i haven't
changed a bit. john)
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