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by   Poe's Rose

And when I still love you, 
(Eighty, ninety?) years from now,

And when the gray and white has rested
Long upon my brow,

And all my poor mind can remember
Is happy thoughts of you,

And all my weak heart can yearn for
Is that you should love me too,

Will then you turn and kiss my cheek,
As if I were once more young?

Or leave me to my death, alone,
Like a bright bead never strung?
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Poem ID: 59588   Poem Posted: 6/2/2003
Viewed: 6485  Voted On: 60  E-mailed: 16  Commented On: 1
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Rose and Rhyme Sweets Message in a Bottle Flowers

Copyright , 2000, Poe's Rose  all rights reserved by the author.
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