April Eleventh Nineteen Eightyeight
Always trying to fit in, where even water is a stranger
Poetry, my sweet remedy
Reading, writting my joy in which to escape
In my own little world I see Paula kissing me
Loving her with such passion, and devotion
Enter fear not my screaming soul
Leave all, let yourself in my shoes
Even the happiest heart will mourn
Vacant are the halld of my heart, for she is a jelous artist
Equally I too wish to hang her art upon my heart
Nevermind the passing of time
Timid is the soul that lives with in
Hear my words, hear my heart speak unto you
Nothing can change his past
Invoke my inner poet and love will speak "Paula"
Never looking back for a path revised is a change in whom you are
Elevating a step higher always having her in mind
Time itself can be held to a pause, as he speaks
Escape into my vision, see not the globe for greean, but for beauty
Erase, delete my past, but a witness can never forget
Night falls into his poetic verses, yet he goes on
Elastic are are ways of seeing his path
Insight, always looking into his future
Generous to his kin
Humble to praise his King
Tone, a voice of an angel, persuasive and smooth
Young and strong, leaping is his scene
Ending all his work in her name
Invisible yet full of color is his passionate imagery
Giving all of his heart he fights to retain his soul mate
Honorable verses for they draw many breaths
Time again paused to his choice, he lives for her
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