Love is kind,
fruit of the mind.
Lives more than nine,
Stronger each time
Staining my lines,
Sweeter than pines,
making you unwind,
obliviously blind,
hearing only the chime,
of your hearts as you lyme,
until when you find,
fickle and fine,
in one perfectly aged wine,
then taste sip and refine,
for it will be mine.
Sep 26, 2014
Sep 26, 2014 at 6:21 PM UTC
Love is kind,
fruit of the mind.
Lives more than nine,
Stronger each time
Staining my lines,
Sweeter than pines,
making you unwind,
obliviously blind,
hearing only the chime,
of your hearts as you lyme,
until when you find,
fickle and fine,
in one perfectly aged wine,
then taste sip and refine,
for it will be mine.
