1888

The year 1888,
You really don't see like i do see;
The year 1888,
You really don't think like i do think;
The year 1888,
You really don't hear like i do hear;
For history do repeat itself all the time!
And i am like your past in this game of love,
But you've hidden your sweet love far from me.
Your present is like my muse and,
I will surely get to you one day with my love;
Because the future is all about us!

poem by Edward Kofi Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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