Florida's Foreverly Shores
Knave of ardor, thou hast spun
tale of love not yet begun.
Rapture sweetly set to song,
love of capture not yet done.
Sweetly though thou words may fall,
unlock thine heart to have it all.
I cannot come within the cell
of thy mind wherein thou dost dwell.
Of thine own making are shadows dark
Unleash thy mind with song of lark
Imagine now, thy dream come true,
possible by freeing the shadows of you.
Thank you for this very
~*The pen of the poet never runs out of ink, as long as we breathe.*~