Its fingers spread like fine spun gold Gently nestling us to the fold Like silken thread it holds us fast Bonds like this are meant to last. And though at times a thread may break A new one forms in its wake To bind us closer and keep us strong In a special world, where we belong. My love, I have tried with all my being to grasp a form comparable to thine own, but nothing seems worthy; I know now why Shakespeare could not compare his love to a summer’s day. It would be a crime to denounce the beauty of such a creature as thee, to simply cast away the precision God had placed in forging you.
Posted on: Tue, 11 Mar 2014 04:35:44 +0000