Monday, September 4, 2017

"The garden"

In the garden was the love, but not what most would think
A long and deepest draught of what it is one needs to drink
To fill the cornucopia, it starts along the spine
Emotions run the rampant way but never will refine
To read the book and feel the thrill, the essence in the touch
All the fire must be aflame, emotions follow such
The dwindling of delight is seen but never recognized
As dwindling of the kindle as the fire is compromised
No flame can burn so brightly and no love can ever shine
Unless the fire is quickened as it's felt along the spine


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