Starlet
She was a peculiar kind of girl;
a creature of curious curtsy
and midnight adventures till dawn.
Beneath moon pearl lightly,
she would climb high,
to see the board's pieces.
Freed from being a pawn...
if only for a moment.
And I, a boy with too big eyes,
would trace her outline
and tuck my observations of her
in between my notebook's creases.
There was something of atonement,
in her freedom from the ground,
as if purity was being
ten feet closer to the stars...
How I adored her from my window;
cherished the jewel I had found,
till time took its tragedy
and I lost her
amongst the blurred cars.
~~~~
trying for substance, rather than rhyme scheme. its a work in progress.
The special poignancy of unrequited love, and then that horrible permanent loss. Nicely done. Thank you.
ReplyDeleteI hope you find her again.
ReplyDeleteIf this is a work in progress, we should all compose poetry as 'works in progress' ~ simply wonderful. My favorite line? .. 'as if purity was being ten feet closer to the stars'
ReplyDeleteDear your work always has substance, and we all are writing in a work in progress....I have the same problem with not rhyming...I always seem to gravitate to rhyme...even when I set out not to....a lovely write as always Michael! :-)
ReplyDeleteworks well indeed...thanks for sharing this
ReplyDeleteLove Stanza 2 and also the way you have worded your tragic conclusion
ReplyDeletetill time took its tragedy
and I lost her
amongst the blurred cars.
this is ridiculous
ReplyDelete