Her Mystique, Love

Oh to speak the words that love will employ

To know that all we wish to do is sigh,

compelled by the answers we know not why

yet that life be filled by comfort and joy.


There is quick wit to the words we do use

meant to crown our glimpse upon a pattern

of life only suggests how we may turn

this into worry; lost in want refuse.


Time takes our lives fraught, concerned and worry

that we shallow now in graves of deceit

find only despair in such conflicts we meet

with derision, fear, instincts we bury.


Oh to know the history of that glove

that sweet analogy her mystique, love.

Please I would love you to share words, suggestions ...

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