With tranquility in my quiet heart,
Whispers find their way,
Silent like a form of art.
My love canst sway.
For you it beats, secluded of,
The iron fist of truest love.
Opaque, distant and so quaint.
My blood of red wont taint.
As up in heaven, clouds that wisp,
Your essence is my truest wish.
Your love of peace, so fine.
Makes my life divine.
To spend what matters in moments lost,
I walk in feet of bare in winter frost.
And freeze unto the depths of hell.
Without my beauty belle.
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Author:
RSM (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: September 16th, 2025 04:16
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 18
Offline)
Comments1
A poem of love cast in classical verse. Nicely rhymed it flows as a stream through a garden
Thanks again for your kind words.
You are most welcome
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