The Book

National Poetry Day 2019 is coming closer and my school is holding a poem competition. I am not a poet but I thought I'd give it a try.

I walk into the room and there She is,

a beauty resting by the fireplace,

waiting for me.

I am who She lives for.

 

She’s been patient

sitting there the whole day,

so that She wouldn’t miss the moment I come home,

to continue her tale from before.

 

Every evening I sit on the couch

with her in my arms,

I move aside her red leather coat

to caress the frills of her once white dress,

now worn out to a faded yellow shade.

 

I listen to her stories,

I feel her pain,

feel her joy;

and when we are both so tired

that She can’t talk and I can’t listen

I run my hand on her back one last time,

gently wrap the cloak around her

and let her fall asleep.

 

‘Until next time, my love’ I whisper,

She is who I live for.

Reviews

[John the Baptist]

A very moving piece describing a mutual devotion. I'd say you are a poet.