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Saturday, July 31, 2010

At The Time

At The Time
Why is it in poetry, I'm always in a bind?
And why is it that I cannot tell, the thoughts upon my mind?
I see your smile as it does curl, so gentle on your lips,
And I tingle at the wispy thought, of your hands upon my hips.

My thinking's screwed as I sit here and I blame it all on you.
Though innocent of everything, you've sent me all askew.
These sneaky tremors I now endure, make me incomplete,
While all the time my common sense and breathless heart compete.

I drink my tea and watch the screen, and I try to concentrate
But all the while, I sit and smile, it's you I contemplate.
And all that work that should be done, those books I need to read,
They sit and stare, they're well aware; attention now they plead!

But while it lasts and my soul endures, I'll enjoy it while it soars,
And it if ever when it all comes down, and makes my heart bleed more,
I'll sit upon this thought of you, and thank the stars above,
For fleeting though this feeling is, I send it forth with love.

Warrior Princess