The Door

Dear She,

A door dividing us, me and My Love;

for years, I wait in patient zeal for her

to someday know and free me like a dove;

the door will open, that I am sure.

 

Her voice of kindness rings into my ear;

its fair tones phonate in my lonely heart;

at times, I listen only just to hear;

for, it is what compels my life to start.

 

But now, her voice, at last, begins to fade;

the song of her sweet voice is long away;

perhaps, the time has come for love be laid;

too great, her voice has drawn from me today.

 

And now, the truth I most completely see;

the door will never open just for me.

This poem is about: 
Me
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 

Comments

KRansleben

This was a poem I ended up writing for an English class, but I decided to come back to it and improve upon what I already had.

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