Very Bad Archive
tilt-a-whirl
Bob Nichols
Her raven tresses lay soft & sure
Like a waterfall, so clear, so pure,
Upon her shoulders, glimmering bronze
Like the sunset glow on a winter's night.
Her eyes alight with passion anew
Like the meadows glittering morning dew,
Burn deep into my heart & mind
Like a Summers day her beauty shined.
Her touch so gentle, velvet hands
Like the deserts rolling, warming sands,
Sends tingles through my very soul
Like an Autumn days romantic stroll.
Her heart so fragile yet warm & strong
Like the Larks most enchanting song,
Causes me to stumble & fall
Like a baby's first attempts to crawl.
Her very being excites me so
Like a fairground ride, my senses glow
She'll be forever my model girl
And I'll be forever in a tilt-a-whirl..
Bob Nichols has published since joining on 23/4/10. Read more of Bob's terrible poetry at the anthology. Here are three of Bob's latest works: