Is It Possible

Poem By teri bronte

I met you one day and you were so gentle in your conversation...
You didnt rush me..You asked me about myself like you were interested..
You made me feel lovely and wanted for myself..
Is it possible you could really want me?
Am I fooling myself over this? Do I pull back and wait to let you explain more of your intentions?
After all I have made so many mistakes talking to someone long distance.
Is it possible you could really care about me?
Wait i must walk softly, i'm to afraid to give again, give my heart and mind and trust..
Is it possible you are telling me the truth about your desires for me?
Do i dare respond or should i cut it off like i do so many when they get so close.
Is it possible?

Comments about Is It Possible

There is no comment submitted by members.


Rating Card

0,5 out of 5
1 total ratings

Other poems of BRONTE

Oh Joy, Oh Joy

Oh joy, oh joy, don't leave just yet, linger on awhile and wash my days with a mist of morning dew..just enough to make me feel alive and full of you.
Oh joy, oh joy, i strech and purr like a kitten after her nap knowing you are nearby with a touch so soft and yet so familiar with my every aches and make them enhanced and slide on to a ride that won't stop until i reach that place of bliss where you never know if you will find your way back.
Oh joy, oh joy, stay awhile longer please..don't hasten to leave me yet,
The after glow may stay to put us both to sleep and a smile on our faces and warmth running through our bodies like a river down a hill, so smooth and ever changing.

Me

I am me,
a mother, a woman, a person of idea's.
I am the daughter of her and him.
A lover of art's of music and books.

His Touch

His touch let's me know im wanted..
His touch leads me further to my destiny..
My head bow's as my knee's bend to His touch..
My will is given to Him to guide me to what i can only imagine will be wonderful as His touch.

I Remember Them

The name's are different.
The sweet talk is different.
The looks are different.
The age's are different.

The Dominant Male

Oh this man of order's and dismay; with the strenght and no
wisdom of what he has.. is beyond me.
He struts his stuff and beats his chest, He barks and howls at
the night; but his bark is all; for he has no bite.

Getting Old

Who is the man with little grey hair
Who is the man, wearing away and nobody cares
Who is the man with very bad eyes
Who is the man who gives out sighs