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stemmed emotion
by Mike C Bunker

Passion falls on those who fall at features of dismay.
They change, convert, in other words run when they are swayed.  

The truth be told, I never know what love is or isn?t.  
All I swear is till this day I will always be this smitten.  

My glass is filled to tops of endless ends of bars and pubs.
The less I care the more I swear that Angels soar too high above.  

Look, but do what others sooth in, glancing in and out; 
not to think of how life is when life comes near to mine.  

And all I know are those hours that gave my life some reason. 
Now all I have are those hours that prove to be like seasons.
        
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Poem ID: 84781   Poem Posted: 11/19/2006
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