With this ring, things come to an end.
I’ll always be a silent lover and friend.
To each other, we’ve never deceived
Perhaps this affair offered too much to believe.

It’s a cold winters day, and the snow looks divine.
Fitting weather for the severing of communication, this time.
I’ll stand and endure the weight of this feeling.
It’ll make me stronger and you won’t catch me kneeling.

It’s not to be tough nor stubborn, with pride
And it’s not because I don’t enjoy this ride;
Though, those things are equally true.
I won’t kneel, simply, because I love you.
I hope to come through and see that one day
That we’re happy because we found a new way.

Until those small plans can come to fruition
I’ll have to head towards a new destination.
The one I’ve been working on that’s just within reach
The one that grants me my small island and beach.
There will always be hope in me for you and I;
It will stay in my heart till the day comes I die.

Most of this month has been bitter cold.
January girl, please don’t wait till you’re old
To make life a sweet one, as sweet as can be.
Don’t look back on things and wish you had me.
Go after something that pleases your heart
Fight for a love that turns you to art.
Don’t ever forget the moments we shared
And know in each one, that I truly cared.

Know there’s no way I see getting over you
Everything is a constant reminder of all the things we used to do.
The talks we once had and the things that we spoke of;
The annoyance of knowing that technically, we can’t even break up.

So I’ll write you these songs, you’re my guilty pleasure.
Just a tiny glimpse of you is like discovering treasure.
I can’t help but be me or not feel what I feel
But it’s me I share with you and it makes me feel real.

I want to step to the future and relish the past
I want to create heaven and I want us to last.
I can’t wait to show you my full fledged affection
And give all of me to you with fierce dedication.

I’ve earned your heart and by it I’ll stand
Beside you I’d walk with your hand in my hand.
I’ll for sure be your man, my January Girl
My Scarecrow, my Scarlet, my priceless pearl.

By: Charles Poore


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The White Raven

Writer, author, philosopher, philanthropist, poet, imbecile, denizen gypsy. A rare bird of sorts is what you'll come to think of me. I love to write, play, and work diligently to prove one day fiction will become a reality. I'm very simple when it comes to my views on life, a backpack is ideally my best friend and I found my mistress with paper and pen.

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