A mile long string of beauties on my hit parade.
When, on a Sunday, all the clouds were ill-assembled.
I found it deep within myself, this thing called LOVE.
‘So, it is true’, I said, ‘we only love ourselves’.
‘All else is foam of rather cheap champagne at best.’
And when I looked again inside myself for love,
I found it wrapped around
a lovely thing called YOU.
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