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Boast of proud titles and public honors.
Boast of warriors whose victories are many.
But at a simple frown their glory dies, buried and forgotten.
Happy that love bars me from such a fate,
because love never dies and is worth more than
all of these.
My heart has painted the beauty of your soul.
An artist that draws wonder to the canvas of the mind
and lends truth to love’s beauty. Love that delights my being.
Painting my love brings such wealth and vivid color.
A masterpiece robbed only of its poverty...
I will always write of this argument
between you and my love.
Saying what has already been said
trying to make old words fresh, new.
The meaning is the same.
My heart is still saying
what is already been said.  
A very simple ‘I love you.’
Waves and minutes hasten to their end.
Childhood crawls to maturity and then ends
Times gifts with ragged hands gives and removes
but not the treasures life has stored,
this summed up in one word; love.
My love, like the sunlight
through the windows of my heart
does shine with delight upon your
image that nature's hand has made
becoming art hanging forever
in my memory.
Sun, moon and golden candles hung in midair
are but ornaments used by heavens muse
to paint true love and all things rare.
My love does stir my vice to compare
painted words to love and  
these candles hung in midair.
Love, the self sustaining spring time
insures that the fire in this rose
will never lose its beauty and die.
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