Some people seem to think that love is just for play
an eccentric emotion that ignites the senses for a while
so when it gets too complicated or think it out of style
they thrash the heart as if it were an ***** made of clay
While some believe it can't outlast euphoria of lust
others choose a paring knife aggressing it with carves  
Setting small fires round town they love to play  
over hot irons of passion, while love slowly starves;
Some people are given a fine bow and a good violin
from the start, others look from the sideline but never go in;
I for one would trade my last piece of bread for love,
if treated right by one and other it becomes a turtle dove;    

Some people seem to think that love is just for play,
I for one would give away my heart for ONE, Devotional allay.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dIoleidZAiQ

Miles away from home where the sun is on fire with yesterdays dreams
an Indian sari gown of silk and bead arrives  bending the wind to its  will
warm rain and saffron tinted skies caress gold eyelids and irises of old
Miles away from home the strings of my guitar recall Indian streams
and warm walks on the beach. A faint song  clings to her ghostly figure
like a lyrical refrain, while a fading light begins to lose its shine ....
August smiles still simmer on my mind ,  I was a young man in love  
with a Princess who cradled my heart to the rocking motion of the moon;
She took me to Saffron Hill, then flowered me with poetry, oh what a thrill
to be so close to the sun and not to burn from the throws of her quill ...
Miles away from home I felt the power of her light and then she was gone,
like the monsoon rains of India, she disappeared in September leaving me
to strum my sitar in a Cincinnati bar, watching neon lights light up,  
I told it to old Fred , but he just smiled at me and handed me
a saving thread , "Son,  you'll always have your memories"      
and then, he handed me another Sangria, the color of her swiveling dress

August 3, 2020

He holds his own heart in his hands but doesn't feel it
the tin feels cold to the touch I think he was hurt too much
wearing a funnel over his head he smokes away his dreams
he wants to be loved but, you can't give what you don't get  
To anyone who feels unloved today the sun says, "I Love You "
as it lands on the vessel  but not the man whos lonesome and  gray
he tilts his shadow towards the big forest feeling all hollow inside
no he doesn't remember the last time he suddenly, cried...
Rain begins to drum against his breastplate armor he begins to rust
he hears a tiny whisper a seedling in the morning dawn, " heh you"
"me?" he says, as little fires start, in his impassive eyes of gold
"yes you" says the voice, you're more then just tin, I LOVE YOU!
he opens the little trap door and feels a gush of red, Achew !
For the first time in his life he feels the cold, the sun, the rain, its insane
he can walk without a creak, he's been oiled with love and he
feels right as rain.