In the grand facade of high society's ticker,
Beneath the dazzle, sparkle and all the glitters,
Lurks a truth they often bicker,
Just all fur coat and no knickers.

Masks of smiles painted thicker,
But hearts grow colder, lines grow sicker,
Chasing shadows, dreams grow slicker,
Lost in all fur coat and no knickers.

Hope blooms like morning's flicker,
Find your worth, let nothing snicker,
For life's more than fur coat and knickers,
Let courage rise, love bloom quicker.

In the dance of highs and lows, my mind spins its own rhythm.

In the halls of L Grammar,
Where knowledge and wisdom should bloom,
There stood a figure of intimidation,
A presence that cast a shadow of gloom.

Mr. F, the English teacher,
His words, a weapon sharp and cold,
A teacher whose authority ruled,
But left us feeling small and controlled.

With every lesson, fear did linger,
A tense atmosphere filled the air,
His voice, a booming thunderstorm,
A reminder of the power he’d bear.

He demanded excellence, unyielding,
With little patience for our plight,
His methods harsh, his standards high,
Turning our days into endless night.

Yet, in those moments of resilience,
We found strength to endure and cope,
For even in the face of adversity,
We held on to dreams and hope.

Mr. F, a paradox of power,
His influence, a lasting mark,
In the classroom's shadows and beyond,
We learned to find our own spark.

For an instance, I forgot my wife,
In the whirlwind of moments, life's swift race,
A fleeting lapse, a blink of time,
Yet in my heart, she holds her place.

In busy days and hurried nights,
When memories flutter like the breeze,
A moment's pause, a quiet breath,
Her presence gently brings me ease.

Though time has passed, her love remains,
A constant light that guides my way,
Her laughter echoes in my heart,
A solace in the darkest day.

For even in those briefest slips,
When focus shifts, and thoughts do stray,
The bond we shared is unbroken still,
Her spirit near, come what may.

In the classroom's dusty gloom,
Where dreams and lessons intertwine,
A mischievous schoolboy sits,
With a spark in his eye, so bright and fine.

His mind wanders far and wide,
Beyond the walls of the old school hall,
To lands of dragons and daring knights,
And treasures hidden beyond the thrall.

He doodles in the margins,
Of his tattered notebook page,
Imagining adventures bold,
That could fill a thousand stage.

Yet, when the teacher calls his name,
He snaps back to the present day,
With a sheepish grin, he answers quick,
And promises to stay, to learn and play.

For in the heart of every lad,
A world of wonder lies,
And though he may be mischievous,
His dreams reach for the skies.

An empty glass sits solemnly, a silent plea for more.
Its once vibrant contents now but a memory, a thirst waiting to be quenched.

With every sip, the world grew brighter, a dance of flavours on the tongue.
But now, the glass is void, hollow, its promise unfulfilled.

Oh, to taste that elixir once again, to feel the warmth, the joy it brings.
A moment of indulgence, a sip of bliss, to chase away the evening's emptiness.

Refill the glass, let it overflow, with the essence of life's simple pleasures.
For in that vessel, we find more than drink, we find connection, laughter, and moments to cherish.

So, raise the glass high, let it be known, an empty glass is but a call to action.
Refill it, and let the night continue, with stories told and memories made anew.

In the realm where words collide, where creativity flows like a river, we gather, a constellation of voices, each one shining with its unique light. We are poets, dreamers, and storytellers, weaving our thoughts into the tapestry of existence.

I think we love you.

In the quiet moments of reflection, when the world falls silent and still, we find ourselves inspired by one another. Your words, a spark that ignites our imagination, a catalyst for creation, a reminder that we are not alone.

I think we love you.

It's in the way you share your heart, with verses that resonate with truth and vulnerability. Your poetry, a window into your soul, an invitation to explore the depths of our own emotions.

I think we love you.

It's in the way you paint with words, crafting images that linger in our minds, like the brushstrokes of a master artist. Your metaphors, a bridge between the tangible and the abstract, connecting us to the beauty of the unseen.

I think we love you.

It's in the way you challenge us, pushing the boundaries of our thoughts, provoking us to question and reflect. Your poetry, a mirror reflecting the complexities of the human experience, a testament to our shared journey.

I think we love you.

It's in the way you listen, offering your presence and understanding, a safe space for our voices to be heard. Your support, a beacon of light, guiding us through the darkest nights, reminding us that we are valued and appreciated.

I think we love you.

And as we come together, a chorus of voices, we realize that our connection is not a fleeting moment, but a growing bond, a community of kindred spirits, united by our love for words.

I Know I love you.