Curved strokes of fine pen
product of ill preference
"tell me love holds true".
If you love someone
as fate would necessitate
to walk is to lie.
Summer breeze cultures
sweet, iridescent color
of skies and feelings.
To whom would you owe
the pleasure to understand
you have found a friend.
Some distance renders
concrete impressions into
imaginary.
A deepest yearning
to simply capture in art
what She meant to him.
He sketched a picture,
passion moving his fingers,
yet She was not moved.
So he wrote a song
adorned with beautiful verse
duly rejected.
Failed beyond himself
little to offer, humbly
a poem he wrought.
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