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