eight metaphors

Eight Metaphors

If I did not (so often) think of you

I have grown too weary of that phrase

For what a boredom, when wondering who

Could substitute your spring lit gaze

And why should one devise a plan

To whisk away my easy pleasure

Though most say I’ve excessive dreams

Who rules so right to take the measure?

I stand alone upon a bridge

They often see me and think dismayed

But oh as they should pass me by

I breathe relief and sigh unscathed

And though your distance is persisting

Eight kindled metaphors press my night

To once again believe your whispers

Shall someday be my breathless sight  

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picture from weheartit.com

poem copyrighted by me