Ode to Whoever

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
Searching for love where it never shall lie.

Submitted: December 11, 2006

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Submitted: December 11, 2006

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I stood for a while, entranced by her smile,

Though exertions had left us both tired.

I offered to pay, which was kinda the way,

Things between us had always transpired.

 

I held out the cash, which she took in a flash

And awaited the issue of change.

A stirring of loins, as she dealt out the coins

That would round-up this awkward exchange.

 

I am old, she is young, but it’s I with the tongue

That is dry from a nervous sensation.

I am trying to speak, but there’s barely a squeak

To my thanks for her consideration.

 

My cheeks how they burn, as I watch her head turn

To the next fellow stood in the queue.

There’s that smile once again, just a part of her game,

In an instant I’m feeling quite blue.

 

I linger behind, so to etch on my mind

This vision of feminine charms.

Guess to her, I’m a blur, unworthy of care,

And unfit to be held in her arms.

 

I shuffle away, to my long empty day

Just glad for the time we did share.

With my burdensome load, I head for the road,

Downcast at not meeting her stare.

 

Back home I’m distraught, can’t escape from the thought

Of the girl so delightful and sunny.

And how sad it now seems, that the girl of my dreams,

Can be placing such strains on my money!

 

But such is the price, be it once, twice or thrice

Times per week that I pay for the thrill,

Of seeing that smile, as I step from the aisle

So to check-out my goods at the till.

 

Did I lead you astray, when I said that I pay,

For such moments of brief, passing bliss?

Is it sticking my neck out, sweet girl on the checkout,

To picture we two in a kiss?

 

Alack it is so, for it pains me to know,

We as two both can never be one.

So my love I must hide, keep my feelings inside,

Though I know they shall never be gone.

 

So next time you smile, at that guy from the aisle

Buying meals on his own for to eat.

Though sad he may look, no-one else for to cook,

On you he may be somewhat sweet.

 

And so, must I end, can no longer pretend,

That these words may help shatter my sorrow.

Dreams seldom come true, I can never have you,

But, who knows? I may see you tomorrow.


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