Give me a handful of compassionate lines to a poem
even as I lay panting with scorched hands- I still
hold the purpose of holding her hand; the love
of my life with her beautiful eyes- a muse of things to
write; being an ignitor of tenderness; she rains
down a well full of dreams- a shower of stars
As the spark of our love has given us both a
flammable night, ...illuminated all in an instant

Do pay attention to a love mate who comes to you,
for in these modern days, they seem so, so few…
a thousand may come my way, but even a thousand
more could ever add up to the worth of my very first poem