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Poems by Bob Beveridge
Joelle


He sits and waits for her to pass by
And dreams of her dark eyes and sallow skin
She comes into view, her white clothes cling to  slender form
Each time she passes his heart sores
And oh the joy if she pauses a few moments to pass some time.

He sits and waits for her to pass by
And she stops and asks how he is
He looks into her dark brown eyes
And shivers as her soft voice floats gently on the breeze
All he can do is mumble 'fine'
 

He sits and waits for her to pass by
And she appears like a golden sun ascending from the east
What would she say if she could hear all his unspoken words
And she never will as she is with another
But he will always wait for her to pass by.


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