Love

It is an age- old vicious virus of a kind, Ever invisible ,alluring ,invasive and sly , Posing to be a treat from the high sky , Blessing with bliss the heart and the mind ; The febri-fit has its symptoms to find : Vivid ,latent,obverse ,or perverse in close ally , Cloy in a way,yet aye leave the throat dry ; And Time deserts the desolate victim far behind ; Immunity brings forth expressions in disguise , Or structures ,souvenirs and memorials eternal ; The losers are all set to be in a dark doom, Unless they sense self- love and not despise ; Life from nativity , through the time vernal , By Nature's rule has to stay in full and bloom .