In moments of limerence my heart does long for the haven of love where potions are strong.
A land of passion and rosy dreams,
purple roses and milky streams.
Where lovers are welcomed with open arms,
and the trees of passion glitter with charm.
In their blueish shades the virgins sing,
and the fairy maidens hail their kings.
The pinky skies lovingly shower, silver leaves and golden flowers.
In the distance you hear the buzzing bees,
humming birds,
and the whispering breeze.
Where the milky streams softly ripple,
caressing the banks and its rocky nipples.
From marble fountains lovers would drink,
in crystal goblets with golden rings.
As lovers dance to the beat of their hearts,
their lovely rhythm had turned into art.
While lovers flirt,
and their minds rover,
their hearts are drunk,
but their minds are sober.