P O E T I C S

The Poetry of Michael Langston


(52) STILL

I saw her once again last night,
More beautiful than ever in the pale moonlight.
She once had meant the world to me;
With no one else I'd wished to be.

The moonbeams sparkled in her eyes
On teardrops she could not disguise
And softly lent unto her face
The dearest look of perfect grace.

We sat alone and talked awhile
Of many things, but all meanwhile,
Inside my heart, with ONE thing filled,
Echoed the words, I love you still.


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