The Samaritan

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Status: In Progress  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic


A man gets a helping hand is unsure to take this kind gesture.


The Samaritan

 

I saw you from a distance, the smell of vanilla danced throughout the air, I was gravely in despair, for you were to never be mine.

Like the finest of the wines, from Italy’s sweetest vines, your scent, sweet and intoxicating… intoxicated me.

I have to move closer to you, pushing myself, looking for courage, but like the unripe vine, it must not be my time.

My courage is a mist, full of despair, I can only stand at a distance watching your flowing red hair.

Ever so sweet I can see, as you smile and greet, I must find courage somewhere deep.

I have fallen for you, you the Samaritan with flowing red hair, but to my dismay, I must search for a way to say that you are the ever so sweet of my dreams.

The dream I dream of you, the Samaritan who I long to come to know, pure and innocent like untouched snow.

My dreams of the Samaritan, full of kindness and ever so fair, has sent me so far in despair, the longing for your touch, the longing to smell that sweetness of your vanilla in the air.

My tears I will surely show, this Samaritan I can never come to know.

I must look deep for I still weep, it has been nearly a week, but who am I for you to care, for I am the guy that you only once shared.

Your kindness has been the longing of my pain, I have never known a kind gesture, while upon these city streets, but it was you without care, who decided to share.

Maybe it is not love, only gratitude I should bear, for it was you with no need to extend the hand of share.

The sweet smell of kindness for the helping hand that you did so kindly share, must be the sweet smell of the vanilla that grows among the vines.

I will dig deep to find the courage, to release my pain, to finally be free of my shame, as the rain came down upon me on these city streets...again, you came.

The dreams of my far-off homeland so distant, and away from the torment that is with me now, your kindness has left me astray.

 The bellows of this dark hole that lives inside of my wretched old soul, it is from your kindness that you did share to me on that day, I find the courage from inside me deep, and never again shall I weep on these city streets.

As my decree upon thee before my farewell is complete, I have dug deep for the gratitude, but still, I am weak.

The divines of my sweet Italian vines are now calling me home, so for now as the rain beats down upon me deep on these city streets.

 The Samaritan who is gone and never shall I come to know will forever be an example to me, but for now, my Samaritan, whoever you may be, you are still my one and only, and this is my final decree, as I leave these city streets.

Mosby


Submitted: March 15, 2018

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