Like a Lark
My lady has a passion like a lark
Her burning heart is made from a small spark
Immortality strikes what’s never lame
She’s never burnt by the eternal flame
My lover holds some joy here before me
In a sentiment unlike what we see
There’s solid power through her perfect skies
Opening amazement inside her eyes
Her love boils to the surface with bubbles
She plays a soft harp which in turn doubles
Secretly time has eloped through to her
A desire that’s unlike any other
A myriad purchased by her tenderness
Countless touches into my awareness
Russell Sivey
Copyright © Russell Sivey | Year Posted 2014
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