The Question

By
The leaf quivered in the wind.
As i stood in the street shuffling my shoes. Wind blew past me in a rush like a horse in a race.
Hope welling in my chest.


Wanting to fly but lacking the wings I step up the stairs before me.
My mind on the task and not on my
feet I trip but do not fall.



The door but a foot a mile in
my heart stood before me a soldier
on post. The strain in my hand the
knocker is lifted. The beat on the
door in pace with my heart.



Her beauty starlight she stands
before me. Her face the mask of
surprize. My worries forgotten the
question is asked. Can I have your
hand?





Post a Comment

Be the first to comment on this article!

bRealTime banner ad on the left side
Site Feedback