But if it can’t be,
A little will do
So that Life can start anew.
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The lilies slept their life away,
The violets lost some of their flair,The Wind asked softly,Love is where?But could not find it anywhere.
Dreams are made
Of love that never,ComesOf trembling leavesAnd mortal fearsWhere even TimeSuccumbs.We can’t controlEven our dreamsAs much as we wouldLike,Or even knowAnd comprehendThe message said,That night,When all was darkAnd all light fled,For love had reallyDied,Except in dreamsWould LoveCome back to Life,But what was realIs what you feltWhen in your dreams,You cried,Those stolen dreamsThat well it seemsWere never…
Love never gets old,
The more to hold.Love fulfills your world,Red Roses and Oceans pearled,The waves of Time, undisturbed.Love is Love,Our deepest emotion,Without it we perishIn Time’s lonely motion.
When minds and hearts
And start to showDevotion,New Stars are bornOf Light,In emotional explosionAs Venus,Once by chance,Imagined,Love’s emotions.
Poetry,
The oldest and less profitableOf all Arts,But who cares?As long as it touchesThe deepest fibersOf loving hearts.
Do you hear
Always asking, Why?Wondering if their heartsAre made of Stone,As life’s rivers dry,Emptiness does chokeWith unheard, sighThe errant heart,The lonely heart,The broken heartThat softly cries,That softly diesNever, having found,A loving Home.