Never Got The Chance

Pages sit, gathering dust.
Waiting for your eyes.
Waiting with eternal trust,
For eyes that will never see

A fledgling book, waiting.
Desperate for your eyes.
All other readers, hating.
It waits for your closed eyes.

But you’ll never read it now.
Never turn the pages,
Never wonder why and how
I wrote this for you.

You’ll never have to chance
To read my work.
Months of telling the Dance--
And now it is the end.

You’ll never have the chance
To read it, now.

The End

172 comments about this poem Feed