Mystified
I've never known her or seen her to be
the mystery behind her. The black long hair
silky, and her surliness stands aloof.
Her long legs could spy any secret of mine
or James Bond.
I only see her, never speak to her
for fear she is just a mystery wearing jeans.
👁 1💬 0
Something wrong with this poem?
Replies are closed for this poem.
Your Poem's Voice
See what makes your poem unique — its voice, energy, themes, and the literary traditions it draws from.
Comments (0)
No comments yet. Be the first to share your thoughts.
Log in to leave a comment.