A whole garden of prose.
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Life is made of snow,
But not even this,Would really matter,It’s love foundThat makes LifeA Rose Sublime,That will notBe killed by Time.
It’s hard to love,
Alone with Love,So constantly,The heart returns,The flow of blood,Emotions soar,Just like a flood,The sky, Auburn,Clouds Violet-Blue,The sea does turn,This color, too,And I just think,All day of you,Persistent, love,Pure and profane,Enamoured heart,That goes insane.In heaven’s name,What do I feel?Is it a dream,Or is it real?My life, my heart,You have undone,Without your love,I cant go on,My only…
I never thought,
The way that I now do,I woke up to an empty room,And desperation too.Not knowing what to do,Not knowing what was going on,Or if you would return,I closed my eyes,And wandered on,Knowing,My life was through!
Lost in, Time
Past, Prime and Present,Seem so long ago.Merely above waterHoping not to drown,Sorrows that slaughterWhen hope is not foundCircle around me,At lonely door pound,Sounds from the pastThat painfully rebound,In emptiness and sadness,In love, that Time has drowned.
The here and now are Nothing,
Our Hearts will be together,As our Love Forever mounts.
I am not one to be enamored
Poetically written,But when it happensAnd I’m poetically smittenWith feelings that are written,Forever in my heart,That poem staysAnd each time I read it,In heavenly rapture,My heart sways.A sort of love-story,Like when someone prays.