I stare at the ring on my finger
And know it meant nothing at all
Complicit, your glances would linger
I'd wait alone, with our guests, in the hall
It's no wonder that our relationship's dead
You took the waitress on honeymoon instead
©cih11, 07.03.11
starcline - less a blog, more a derailed train of thought
About Me
- clinestar
- Part time poet, full time librarian, student of the delights of milk chocolate. Likes books, milk, paddling, poetry, scribbling, chocolate, notebooks, sea, piers. Not necessarily in that order. All work copyright cih.