Mystery Of love
Who can say where it comes from?
Only that it’s there, when least expected,
thought to be rare if not obsolete
One night, the air a swirl of restless
dream and moonbeam, we are kept awake
by a tingling...an unsettling of the
heart
the longing for another, also, searching
for a missing part
We scold ourselves, a thousand times
been there, done that, sought
fulfillment in silly love rhymes
yet, compelled as addicts
in an opium den, together
we will try to write heaven again
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