The special way you look at me,
That makes you know me thru and thru,
The special way you hold my hand,
Telling me deep, you understand,
The way you talk with our life planned,
So that we never leave this Land,
The Land that only you and I,
Can thus posses until we die,
For Loversland, belongs to those,
That Love has blessed, that’s how it goes.
Chases away depression,And may even be,A bit of a cure,When you purge your soul,Trying to make it pureBy giving to allThe very best in you.
Not only in the timeAfter we met,But throughout, my lifeYou were my finestInspiration,My light, my consolationAnd of Love, the very best.
Philosophy and more,It has the Poet’s Soul.
NEVER, that’s when!Fixin’s a waitin’The summer begin?The votin’ that’s been?The sausage cooked in?The fooling and drooling,Where Truth’s never been?The one thing that’s Certain,We fools never win.
And untrustworthy animals,We get along better with our beloved dogsThan we ever will, with each other,Pretty sad, isn’t it, brother?
Where then does poetry go?Straight to the heart,As far as we know,After that,It becomes inner light,Holding onto feelings,So very tight.
