His eyes beamed
as his ardent longings
found their focus
in the solitary girl
all in black
standing in the corner;
his impatience curbed
and hope rising
to an unsuspected scope
he made his way over to her
and fumbled only slightly
when he said
hello.
– matt at shadow of iris
his eyes beamed
Bad man! I read his hope-scope and found tarantulas. Actually, I don’t know; he might be a nice man, which is good in this poem: I like being able to invent more of the story before it arrives.
Neat thoughts!
Ah, I can see it all happening!