A poem tries
To say no lies,
A poem tells
Of many sighs,
Of love that came,
Of love you lost,
Of all the things
You love the most.
A poem captures
Feelings strange,
And also things,
Closest in range,
A Poem is a Poet’s friend,
Never alone,
Till all will end.
Or does it come and go?No one seems to knowWhy we need much more,Than bread,To feed sentiments,That would be gone,Instead.
Am I You,Or my love for you?Please, before I die,I want to know.And Why,Who, am I?
Nor of a woman’s, love,For it’s by loveThat we are mostlyMade and born of.
Beyond reality,You then know that you really feel,Life’s call, passionately!
In my head, heart and knees,May I always have the pleasureOf your company,Dearest, please!
Left!Except, the regretOf never having met!
