by John Smallshaw
(London, England)
I could love her forever.
She reaches out to touch me
I turn and move so delicately
as if she's made of china and she'll crack
or even break.
And I take her smile and file it in the memory stack
where,
when I'm sad and lonely I keep going back
to look at her.
I really like the way she lets her hair
hang free
as if she leaves it there for me to let my right hand wander through.
She knows just what to do.
She lets me know that too.
I could love her forever
and if forever does arrive.
one look into her eyes
and I'll love her even longer
when that love will be much stronger
and forever won't exist
only in the mist of our imaginations
and the creations of our minds.
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