I meditate achingly
Her delicate lips
Slowly sipping
Elegant imported wine.
In lonely dreams,
I weep at night
Wishing my hands
Were upon her hips.
Lovely flowers
Blossom in the afternoon;
But while I linger
Unable to see her,
Nothing can make me happy.
by Uriah Hamilton
YOU ARE READING
Thoughts For The Lonesome
PoetryThis is part three of my "thoughts" series. Tale No One (Part 1) Thoughts Before Bed (Part 2) Thoughts for the lonesome (Part 3) No need to read them in order, just read what suits you best. Thanks for reading. Harry
