Poetry is the Soul of all language,

Our Life sequenceDepends on,Those heartless birds.

Are Nothing,Compared to the Pain,When a loved one dies.

And you and I,Have taken flight,Behold, the happiest idea,What love can do,Holding you near,To walk upon a phantom cloudTo love, to cry, but not too loud,A dream of wondrous tenderness,That only Love can truly bless,And now that all of this you know,Please never, ever let me go,I love you now, eternally,In light, in darkness, tenderly

For a poet, Words are Honey,Without which, he can’t survive.

The heart so often lives,We need much more than purple rain,The peace, Poetry gives.

What better giftFor loneliness, to close.