A Response to an Old
Love Poem I found…
Roses are red, violets are blue.
I wrote a poem once and it was for you.
It spoke of love on wings of a dove.
The verses were free, I asked for no fee.
It spoke of a light burning bright in the night.
I know it was trite, but to me it felt right.
I call it ‘Baby Precious’ as other lover’s had inspired.
Now the light of the poem has dimmed and retired.
Baby precious always shines is a lie, and I am a liar.
It may all sound harsh.
For in the foggy march of time, the changes come with a punch.
But I have my own hunch.
Even though the light went out, does not mean it never shined.
A smile comes when I flip through old pages and find.
The name ‘Baby Precious’ brought to mind.
I wrote a poem once and it was for you.
It spoke of love on wings of a dove.
The verses were free, I asked for no fee.
It spoke of a light burning bright in the night.
I know it was trite, but to me it felt right.
I call it ‘Baby Precious’ as other lover’s had inspired.
Now the light of the poem has dimmed and retired.
Baby precious always shines is a lie, and I am a liar.
It may all sound harsh.
For in the foggy march of time, the changes come with a punch.
But I have my own hunch.
Even though the light went out, does not mean it never shined.
A smile comes when I flip through old pages and find.
The name ‘Baby Precious’ brought to mind.
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