| |
A woman's heart is a deep well of secrets,
filled with tears, lost pride and hope.
I suppose a man cannot help how he sees life,
for he has only eight crayons to help him cope.
Us women have one hundred sixty four crayons in our box,
each color an emotion, a memory, a fear.
A man has to mix his eight crayons to match,
a single color, but he never gets near.
One woman's blue might be torquise,
the man frantically takes out his scratching post.
He mixes a bit of blue, some yellow, a dab of purple,
his shade won't match, but it might come close.
Should a man be condemned if he fails to see,
the same prim rose color that we possess?
If we don't fill them in on our color scheme,
should we love them more or less?
Can men help it if they don't understand,
does it mean their heads are full of rocks?
We have to remember that they are handicapped,
they've only eight crayons in their box.
|
Help Us Stop Plagiarism -
Nearly all works at PnP are original. However a few people choose to plagiarize.
To check, choose a phrase from the work, then either drag and drop to the search box or copy and paste.
click on search and works at Google will be shown which match. Just to be sure, please do this before
you recommend or rate the work highly...
|
 |
|
|
|
Select a Random Work from Poetry
|
|