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Enigma

by Richard Vince

Her fingers trace intricate patterns
Weaving the melody into the fabric
Of the air around her, gliding
From note to velvet note through
The honey softness glowing around her.

She is life. She is happiness. She is
The embodiment of all the joy
Anyone can ever dream of feeling
Over a lifetime. She is the melody
Without which the song would be
Empty and primed to disintegrate.

The way she laughs makes me become
A poet again, in the cheesy, lovesick
Way I was when I first fell in love
With a girl who belonged to another.

She is to me now the memory of
All the times I wanted to know her
And could think of nothing to say,
And all the times I wanted
To be with her and could not
Admit it to myself.

And now that I know her, I can
Still think of nothing to say,
And now that I can admit
That I want to be with her,
I know that I cannot.

Somehow she is a mystery to me
Despite the fact that I know
Her feelings, and the foregone
Conclusion that is our future
Remains shrouded in uncertainty.

All this wonder and beauty
That she paints on the canvas
Of my life conspires to make
My heart leap so high that
It shatters on landing at her feet,
Where it will inevitably
Come to rest.

10/18/2002

Posted on 10/25/2002
Copyright © 2019 Richard Vince

Member Comments on this Poem
Posted by Amy Niggel on 04/17/03 at 05:01 PM

Thanks for sending me to this one it is a very beautiful poem doll. Yet again you leave me on the brink of tears for the beauty you can create with your words.

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