The last love by Ann Wood
The last loveI believe I will meet her someday,
the real and unattainable one.
The trembling and perfect one.
The only so-called love...
Even if she's late, I'll still accept her
even if the days are numbered
i know it will be worth it
love-without borders, unknown
reason, though late,
with no less passion that inspires,
like old wine, kept for years
stored in itself a bouquet of aromas..
I know my heart will know her
when she confidently stands on his doorstep
waiting, longing, good - as only love can be.
Poetry by Ann Wood
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Written on 2024-08-26 at 22:05
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