PoppaBear's blog: "Poetry by me"

   "The Palm of Her Hand"


The ring for thee, is forged by me
in fires of ancient timbre
quenched by the blood
that flows from my heart
spilt for thee and thy honour

The wind that blows
across the moors
whispers thy sweet name in my ear
causing said heart, to skip in its beat
as thy beautiful visage overcomes me

I see thy face in every flower
that falls beneath my gaze
but their fragrance and so so petals
compare not to the angel that owns me
that one lovely creature

That holds my heart
in the palm
of her oh so lovely
hand