PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

If years were a color

her age would be sage

but wise enough to gauge

on what it is to do



once at her hair

i will stop right there

its because i care

i know what is fair



how much does it take to sew and knit

something that has been torn, shorn and slit

how hard is it to purify the old immaculate

how hard was it to forgive myself from losing my wit



kelly moves down, down below

wishing i could remove myself to know

looking to what could be and what has become bloomed

kelly, sweet kelly, we simply cannot be doomed



i see it in motion

in birthing devotion

to something and someone i have no excuse

but when it comes down to lusting and consequence busting

our lives will both get the noose



our peers in the bush league, not majoring in much

but i'm finnally finding myself in your caring touch

these trees at night they are scratching my arms

cradles of faith and the end of all harms



needing the knowledge to bring it to chance

knowing whole heartedly im placed in your trance

kelly the archer bulls-eye and bow

my liver the quiver four shots and i know



kelly you're wine

straight from the green vine

making me swing circles for your very design

as it gets left behind the innocence waits in this long line

kelly your're mine