A Silver Coin A Poets Flair.

 

Just like any handbag, you don't know why its there
They'll ask how's it going, a silver coin, a poets flair
And we write books, yes books built like Amsterdam
When love is concerned it falls in place, unlike Diane's

Into a perfect place positioned with great will
Loving is too easily written upon his heart
Although not a soldier boy, carry on with a quill
And damns split like wildfire, but I'll still play my part.

An inconvenience thought through to blow a kiss or two
And if prams are made up of having a child in your arms
For convictions in my corner, I was sentenced over you
Double up and dapper the attire of your loving charms.

A dime, a dollar, a Yen and a year's worth of pain
Kills the inside, the outside, the up and above
Followed in her footsteps again, again and again
A raging temple, the Taj-Mahul and a place to love.

Shipwrecked into storms afar, a drunken soldier boy
His compassion put ideas right back to where they belong
And his army of men stood still just like a soldier toy
He puts things back together again and gets it all wrong.

With her perceptual components, a personal anecdote
She headed for disaster and headed towards a book
And a few too many words when jogging down notes
As aloud as a lighthouse horn and for him to take a look.

Although loneliness and hardship carry every handbag
And with lipstick eyes and flakings lay upon your lips
From teary-eyed memories, very happy and very sad
As her heart swooned over him she finally gave a kiss.

Now shopping malls and holidays persist to carry on
Where a shopkeeper kept his love hidden in a drawer
For things to take shape the imagination can be wrong
While upon the scattered fields a heart is being born.

But, she knows how to pick a flower, pick one for me
We'll catch a ride upon a summers love and breeze
Until fortunes of wealth, a wealth you'd hardly see
Although a tickle of the ribs is tickled with such ease.

Is it Portugal or Lisbon, that heart is upon a chair
And when a solitary writer writes in rainbow inks
They'll ask how it's going, a silver coin, a golden flair
Knowing when someone loves you makes you think.

Because you know how it feels deep inside
And losing all the love you left behind
As the caterpillars turn butterfly you'll find
When eventually you try to seek and hide.

Many a love, it ran dry
Many a river who cried
Kissing & cuddled now
I wondered about how.

How a surface underneath
Both in love, together each
While the lark dove deep
A love lost, a love to keep.