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POINTY SHOES
by Terry OlynikLove becomes,
As time decrees,
Statutory affection.
Stylized affectation.
A once gushing
Arroyo of lust.
Now dry home
To the heart's tumbleweed.
Would that you laugh
In your pointy shoes,
And dance your dance.
Just not in my sight.
Despite the distance,
Your smile
Shall forever
Pierce my shadows.
09/09/2005 Author's Note: Damn.
Posted on 09/10/2005
Copyright © 2024 Terry Olynik
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Kyle Anne Kish on 10/01/06 at 10:25 PM "Would that you laugh
In your pointy shoes,
And dance your dance.
Just not in my sight." ... well put, Terry. I have often thought the same thing, not including the pointy shoes, of course. Seems once love seems like it's finally dissipated in the wind, the wind changes and throws it back in one's face. This poem grasped me and say, "Oh, yeah, I get it." Thanks for the read.
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