I Write of Love
I write of love because I am
of love, of love erst and pure.
Of passion and desire a heart
for hire, beyoned the sands of
time. There are no nights or
days, no minutes or hours to
count, only infinity for hearts
to idle. In these arms a place
of rest for you to ever lie, let
my soul join your aura and
sleep a starry sky. Where
whispers are shared and the
dream is walked, sated in the
knowledge that there are no
tomorrow's only forever.
And in that forever will be
that well remembered kiss.
Ahh! Poets dreams
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