Posted by: Ron DuBour | December 19, 2018





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I ‘m looking for my own version
That will cherish my fancy dreams,
By bathing in loves dales and streams;
A girl who will flirt with the slaves
Of love abiding by the waves
Of sores in spirits of stricture.

I’m aiming my own immersion
Where hearts morph to hatred dispel
Swearing on the lovers gospel;
A girl who sees love in dew drops
Welling to sustain loves frail props
When they freak for a fake flexure.

I ‘m searching for a seer nurse
Whose love permeates beyond reach
My bleeding wounds that purely preach
How to trade aches hidden in pains
For drooling seeds and doting grains
Chanting cheers for love’s overture.

Maybe dreaming of a soul mate
in the bare and bracing aspect
Greek gods yore revered with respect
Crafting marvels from white marble
Mined from mines nubile and arable
That basks in love for loves texture.

I shall find her amidst the fays
Who will revive my dormant fire
And on my pyre, so pious and dire
I shall burn for loves feeding breasts
That boastfully rides on the crest
Of fate, thus bracing love’s fixture
For bare buds to bloom in rapture.

copyright@Jotfi Amine

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