Sitting Next To Him

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Sitting Next To Him

Electrifying impulses,

Race through my veins.

I quickly stop breathing,

Like he pulled the reins.

Something about the way he sits,

Shows is uncertainty.

His elbow collides with mine,

While his eyes steal my sanity.


I dwell in the blue,

As he mutters a pardon.

I didn’t catch it,

Why, this is so sudden.


My imagination soars,

The concert is a blur.

I think of only him,

The rest I am unsure.


We stand up to leave,

Now was my chance.

I watched him walk by,

Eyes shifting to glance,

At me.

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A poem begins as a lump in the throat, a sense of wrong, a homesickness, a lovesickness. It finds the thought and the thought finds the words.

Robert Frost (1875-1963) American Poet.

emmedenney’s Poems (3)

Title Comments
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For Taylor 1
Arranged Unity 0
Sitting Next To Him 0