Everything builds offspring.
Wombs birth children
Eyes make tears
Skin curls dead cells into goatees
Minds father Fears
Night’s procreation, Day
Itself makes Junk and Fuss
Those unkempt children setting fires
To burn off all of us.

Blessed I am to have you here
To touch your apple cheeks dear
To feel the warmth of your true love
And cherish all here, down or above
I am so lucky, to have the lucky charm
Of nuptial beauty, charismatically warm
O love, my love! You are what I'd convert
This world may end, death comes,so what?