miss honest

A tiny seed bottled inside, once broke out into a poem. The poetess loved it so much that even the spelling mistakes were spared.

Saturday, December 01, 2007

On-Off

Gave an ear, pined for the song,
For the lover's nothings she longed.
Then it comes striking a note!
It really did?
Or perhaps, it was only a thought,
A fleeting scene as the boat rocked?
The whiff of a pleasant pain, a sweet blank,
A bouquet of non-existent violets of love?