Early poetry of Nathan Coppedge

WAITING
I was a poor man when I saw her eyes
  then she laughed and I went lightly
I was lost until she moved her feet
   we both went round the room
I moved into her eyes
she sank onto her feet
We went round the room, I 'd never met the kind of beat
for while there was the slightest falter
little held us hand in hand
I took the rose she took my words (there was no end).
                                                            
                                                     
poetry ii.   main
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