Step Mile Journeys

His eyes cold and dark,
Tunnels and caves within.
They beheld no warmth nor spark,
His cheeks are not that clean.

He hold no smiles for me;
Lips of brown and grey.
Just there for a sip of tea,
or eating for his prey.

Hair of oil and dust.
Not there in delight.
His breath can make an iron rust;
or even make a mouse ran in fright.

But nothing could tempt me more,
Than his kind heart that ached and sore. 

1. 

   […] looking at the ease around the bust area to determine how the final garment will fit me (see my…

2. 

   Wow Last lines are overpowering and I tried a Sonnet myself do tell me how that is as well .…