Her Eyes


Words bereft of soul, cannot a heart reprise;

She sees the rose’s slow demise,

Her guide, slow settling petals

And passions bitter sweet surmise,

Feather light about her heart settles. 

His logic charts a different path,

Elemental strictures shaped and laid

Calculated, logics turgid grifted math,

Loves lost empty coffers left unpaid;

Words bereft of soul, cannot a heart reprise.

© Greg Richards

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