Saturday, 31 August 2013

My passionate man.

There was a man, poetry was his passion,
When we met, his new poetry had begun.

Exploring its pages, in the rhymes we had flown,
Deeper and deeper in the world, we made our own.

I didn't know him and where he came from,
But my eyes would promise his, in some form.

My love shall carry his, until it can,
See what you mean to me, my passionate man!

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