If...
Cupids...

A subtle scent of lemony zest,
evokes a spicy titillation...

Our wonderful world languishes
within an open wound...

I whispered to the wind Of my
hollowed misery...

born from serenity
a melody...

So many mornings-
depression cracked...

She can change her mind
like the weather, which is true...

With oaken roots, an English rose did grow
from natures womb a noble tree was born...

Two flavours of life
such beautiful opposites...

....as moon awaits, to greet your soul
you’ll cross a bridge where lies no troll...