Madeline

Sometimes I wonder Madeline
sweet, innocent girl
why I did not make you mine?
I still see your soft brown hair twirl

and in thoughts I am still lost
in the deepness of your dark-brown eyes,
sometimes I can touch you almost,
as if you are with me after all the goodbyes.

Our love was never really expressed
but burnt with a kind of intensity
and in your companionship I was blessed,
in your pure sincerity

and maybe I will wonder forevermore about a passionate kiss,
about how it would have been to be with you in sweet bliss.

poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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