Pictorial Prose

Pictorial Prose
Indulging my most lucid daydreams

Tuesday, June 20, 2017

This Gift Called Love

In the morn before the sunrise
or a movie with lover's highlights,
in a moment of sweet romance
I accepted the cloud dance.

Like the river flows to the sea
and the night sky in revelry,
my love for you goes on
like a replay of loves song.

This touch of sorrow for the space
that separates us from face to face,
but the joy remains deeps inside
as a reminder of our special time.

Silence is no longer here
as I know how much you care,
rhythmic in its own way
the heart celebrates each day.

For you are the gift,
the gift we call love,
magical and wonderful
on earth and up above.


I think of you each morning
and throughout the long day,
you are my every thought
in every kind of way.

I hold onto the magic
that brought you here to me
and that is how I start each day
in your arms through a dream.


All kinds of love,
but only one like ours,
for ours is wonderful
and warmer than a fire.

I can't ever deny it
what took a hold of me,
from the moment you said hello
I stepped into your dream.

On this fragile plane where our souls are united and divided,
 reveals the bitter sweet of love that has the ability
 to brake and mend the heart. 

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