Shy
SHY
Snow covered his mouth
It felt just like a drought
His words were just dreams
What they could do was just gleam.
But dreams they later die
With it the words then fly
This man who let them be,
Will later become shy.
This man alone he lived
On a hill far from here
His words he tried to revive
But he failed ‘cause they felt like knives.
But later he met a woman’s eyes
His mouth started to agonize
And something started to bloom on his heart
Maybe the words will come back?
This poem is about:
Me