With cheeks so red
And amiability
One truth is heard
Of some affability;
Hands didn't toil
Hearts didn't err
Parting lips never fail
To praise whom we admire;
Ninety-nine black ivory
None dedicated for me
The pleasure is sublime
The yearning is intense
Too rare to catch
Yet, Common at time,
Or Ordinary.
1 comment:
Your words are like those of Saints ....
Were you a monk at a previous epoch?
Contact yourself .. maybe it is a case of reincarnation!!
:)
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