Lovers
It's so tragic, when magic leaves
A romance. The dance of lovers.
Four leave clovers. One grieves
The loss of the lucky. It hovers
Above the pledge made to God.
Promise to love not another one.
To be one, in spirits and in bods.
Grasp the stars, the moon and sun.
Years make love stronger, longing
For the touch, so familiar and nice.
It's the fervour, that is belonging
To a love that forever, will entice.
|