Read Poem: Beauty by Marc Libidinsky

She was beauty set in stone;
I couldn’t move her,
she wouldn’t moan.
She was beauty,
she was sleep.
She was beauty
held at bay –
Held by me,
some might say.
She was beauty turning wild;
though, demurring:
Never mild.

(c) Marc Libidinsky, 1/17/2019

Author: poetryfest

Submit your Poetry to the Festival. Three Options: 1) To post. 2) To have performed by an actor 3) To be made into a film. View all posts by poetryfest