Our dear,

Poor Poet rich with words

Imagines heaven

Though feeling pain

As he sweetly speaks

Softly

About Love

He's been dreaming

To have, having none of that / of theirs

The same kind / gift /

Freedom without needing

Yet having no money to be so

Free

To fill the pages of this story...

Won't Cha? --Hell,

I wouldn't but they'd **** for it:

Papal / Power / Paper

Control over the masses

But No, not my brother, he's my heavy

Not the earthly wonders

In the brown deep eyes

Of mothers

And see into mine / our hours

The surfaces reflecting

Of Love

The poetry of us,

Dearest

Poor Poet rich with words...