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HISTORY (HIS-STORY)
by POOJA  CHABRIA

LOOKED OVER THE STAIRCASE
SAW HIS FACE.
A COYISH GRIN MADE MY HEAD SPIN.
HE WAS THE ONE, I KNEW.
GRADUALLY IT GREW.
FELT THE WORLD AT MY FEET,
WAS HE SO DISCREET?
WE CAME SO VERY FAR.
WHAT DID WE KNOW, IT WAS MIDNIGHT HOUR.
AWAY WHEN WE TRIED TO GO 
FROM THE INTIMATE CHEMISTRY
COULD WE MAKE IT HISTORY 			
NO- IT REMAINED BUT A MYSTERY.
        
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Poem ID: 49899   Poem Posted: 11/8/2000
Viewed: 1846  Voted On: 26  E-mailed: 0  Commented On: 3
 
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Copyright , 4/11/00, POOJA CHABRIA  all rights reserved by the author.
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