Who's that girl,
Stepping on the wide street?
With her strawberry garb,
Along her porcelain skin?
With umber waves,
Clinging along her ears and shoulders
A glimmering, turquoise spheres,
Which drive me in an abrupt bewilder.
Her salmon lips that she promptly bit,
This lass on my front— so brittle, so sweet
Her rosy cheeks down to her convex chin,
My orbs... from haze to keen.
But— Oh! What's that?
What is she holding with her gloved hand?
A shade— a crepe shade with a black curve,
With that pinkish gradient.
Her grasp on her parasol.
Fruitfully she lean it back,
That shadowed her delicate nape,
And bounced the stunning beam.
Oh heavens! From her lips to her feet,
Which surely illuminate upfront
Just pace forward, my dear—
Show them your peerless pink!
YOU ARE READING
Telling My Own Thoughts; Short Poems ✔️
PoetryBook 2 of the "Short Poems" series. - - - "Applaud like there's no tomorrow; live like there's no such thing as sorrow." - - - (NOTE: THE TITLES OF THE POEMS WERE ALL GOT INTENTIONALLY CAPITALIZED ON THE FIRST LETTER OF EACH WORD FOR AESTHETIC PURPO...
