Love Worth Not Forsaken

It was love that grew young, So it could have more time to give. Love that had the greatest of feel, Enticing to a touch so pure to those- That live in the braille to see in the - Delight of its raised parts. Love so worn to soon be one with the dust, But praised with remembrance in the best and- Worst of remembering. Oh love not forsaken, Put to rest on a bed of nails- Yet so in comfort. Oh love the beauty in the stride of - Your long legs, the parade in our journey.