poem of the day #1
I was never in a league of noble gentlemen To whom she'd cast polite and flitting smiles, Only distant hope and dying dreams for me! Or perhaps descent into a game of wiles
To give a chance of sipping wine on heady nights With her angelic presence to declare; Above, an aura playing out hypnotic hues, And I in awe of blonde cascades of hair.
But no! my tiring soul is sinking in a mire To haunt me for an age and evermore, for How could I expect to hold her silken hand When I am but a soulless ghost of yore?
This has nothing to do with spanish