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Unwritten
by Richard VincePerhaps these words are not
Meant to be written. Even so,
I cannot bear the thought
Of them languishing in my
Not quite memory with everything
I was unable to say.
She's one of those people who
Makes life better; who makes
The world seem more beautiful,
More interesting, more vibrant
When she describes it.
I told her than I loved
The way she writes, but not
That I was always so very
Impatient to read more.
Now I can read nothing of
Her wit, her intelligence or
Her perceptiveness.
I told her I thought
She was beautiful, but not
How fully I meant that.
I saw a purity there, a clarity,
Something that could almost be
Called simplicity, only without
Naïveté; as though she had
Grown up to accept reality and
Somehow avoided becoming dulled.
What I always kept to myself
Was how special I thought
She was; how I wanted to
Know her and to be a
True friend to her.
Had she known that this was
The gift I offered her,
Perhaps she would not have
Rejected it. I shall never know.
11/13/2008 Posted on 12/01/2008
Copyright © 2024 Richard Vince
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Gabriel Ricard on 12/02/08 at 06:50 AM Fantastic and beautifully stated. Right out of the park, man. |
| Posted by Tom Goss on 12/02/08 at 07:37 PM The Ghost Of That Girl that Haunted The Boy. So very Human. |
| Posted by Laura Doom on 12/03/08 at 07:55 PM The catharsis before the storm perhaps...the dead must be buried before a new dawn delivers the hurricane of change. Regret representing the 'what if' of the unknown, rather than as a consequence of action, is a theme revisited and, as always, explored with sensitivity and tasteful, poetic melancholy.
We may never know :) |
| Posted by Amy Niggel on 12/05/08 at 06:09 PM Yet another beautiful poem. Great job hun. I really enjoyed this. |
| Posted by Alison McKenzie on 12/05/08 at 09:24 PM Lovely, as always, Richard. I hope she does read this someday. |
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