Alas, a life so picturesque,
A heart so low in recompense.
In warmer weather, by and by,
A grass more green of which to lie,
Let it be, fortuitous blunder,
Of rhyme, or rhythm, and heartened wonder.
This reverie, or dreams of life,
The source of my perennial strife.
To want, to be, the least of these,
One that's fit, but for a King,
My heart adorned by your decree.
As beautiful as life can be,
The paint to spill upon your canvas,
Of blues and green by which to span this.
Vibrant expanse, a lovers tryst,
This world unknown, but yet to miss.
Mar 13, 2010
Mar 13, 2010 at 5:12 PM UTC
Alas, a life so picturesque,
A heart so low in recompense.
In warmer weather, by and by,
A grass more green of which to lie,
Let it be, fortuitous blunder,
Of rhyme, or rhythm, and heartened wonder.
This reverie, or dreams of life,
The source of my perennial strife.
To want, to be, the least of these,
One that's fit, but for a King,
My heart adorned by your decree.
As beautiful as life can be,
The paint to spill upon your canvas,
Of blues and green by which to span this.
Vibrant expanse, a lovers tryst,
This world unknown, but yet to miss.
- From Babygirl
