Music is poetry


This thing called Love

I told myself

there is nothing to this notion

called love

I was hurt, jaded and cynical

about anyone who spoke to me of it

It didn’t fit

Then you burst into my life

like a splash of cool. bubbly water

over rough parched skin

My heart began again to sing

Days became a journey of

Migration into sublime fun

Eager anticipation, loveination

My imagination dance, skated

And boomerang all over the place

You were forever in my mind’s face

I was an awakened soul

A lovely mess, if truth be told

Deliciously confused by all these feelings

Which I was madly dealing

I had to admit the horrible truth

Love is alive and growing to booth

And it had taken root in me

And turned this rock of my being

into substantive jelly.

BAQ (c)

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