Since I met her nothing’s been the same,

My heart beats for her,

My mind thinks of her,

And as much as I see beauty,

I base it on hers,

She gives me a reason to wake up,

Not because I lacked one before,

Simply because I want more,

Refined to the finest standards,

I experience the finesse and masterpiece,

That is she. 

The glow on her skin scintillating like the morning dew,

The emotion between us became distant,

It grew,

I can’t explain it to them, myself or her,

What she does to me only a child would comprehend,

That satisfaction of having something you longed for,

Even if it’s not in your grasp,

It’s in your sights,

No longer a distant thought,

But a reality,

It’s only a matter of time.



When I talk to her,

I’m talking to me,

So deep is the psychological connection,

I can’t get her out of my mind,

I believe I have control of my life,

But in essence I’m lost,

Lost in my own world,

Blind to my own ways,

I know the reason for my journey,

But know not the destination,

Have my goals in sight,

But not with whom I will achieve them,

People tell me I’m fighting a losing war,

But it’s not in winning a war that a soldier becomes a hero,

It is in the effort he puts,

That he does not give up,

Even when the odds are stacked against him,

And I am a soldier,

A soldier waging a war against himself,

A war that is seemingly lost,

But doesn’t he who masters himself,

Also master the world?

I almost know myself,

It’s only a matter of time.



Her innocent eyes,

Hair reminiscent of mine,

Softly tough,

Embodies her natural beauty,

Lips I’d lay on mine,

Her smile,

Sly yet pure,

Body not of an hour glass,

That is not the body of a lass,

But a body I’d spend an hour,

Five, two, twenty, four,

Just to have a glance,

The feel of her hands,

The tone of skin,

I can’t find the words to describe her,

It’s like drinking from an empty cup,

No beginning,

No end,

I don’t think they can walk in my shoes,

The comfort would make them uncomfortable,

But I’m in it till I win it,

My goal,


And it’s only a matter of time.







About The One Potter

I'm not very different from the next writer. I'm extremely different. I don't just write, I live the life I write. I'd leave my number here for you but my email the1potter@gmail.com will suffice for now.
This entry was posted in Half A century posts. Bookmark the permalink.

3 Responses to Time

  1. Pingback: Time | Son of a Rant: the1potter

  2. Cyndie says:

    Lovely 🙂

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s