Warm and Aged

the withered glee in her eyes

flooded the crimson spotted cheeks

in her lonesome quest she was drowned

the weakness of her that she can't save

the hand that used to have the touch

of the bright sun and it's warmth

is now dull and calloused

of many trippings on the jagged ground

what she did was knelt and begged

for a good worth of love

but perilous nights of abyss

and epochal nightmares

is what she fell into

instead of the arms of a lovely grey haired gentleman

both of them warm and aged on her bed.

( Hi! so this is the start of me posting my poetry drafts that never came into light until this. I am not a skilled poet, I only have mediocre skills in this art. I also write only when I feel like it. I don't write on a regular basis. But, I still want to share it to you guys! I strongly believe that you dont have to be Shakespeare to be a poet. Anyways, thank you and love for all! )