She walked with grace akin to a glide.
We locked eyes.
Two friends joined at the hip
not a word need pass our lips,
Thus we both cried.
By Richard Willis2 years ago in Poets
The street signs as I pass are barely legible.
I have no desire for anything edible.
"What is wrong?" many ask
"I'm fine." I say
The sun rises, and through my window, starts to shine
But nothing takes to color
Light does not reach these eyes of mine.