Fool

I'm not in love with you now, Ms. Evans, but I think
I will be, and probably soon. I stare at you helplessly
Each time you pass, and I thrill to the sound of your
Odd little voice, which is, at once, so soft (sometimes,
I barely hear it) and stiffened within by a pillar
Of steel. Though you're faultlessly sweet, you don't
Put up with fools, and that worries me greatly, as I
Lose my footing and come crashing closer, proving
That I'm one for you.




Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 26 times
Written on 2021-10-02 at 19:47

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MetaPoetics The PoetBay support member heart!
A witty little poem! Nicely done!
2021-10-04