Love, the Summer Harbinger

Love is no stranger to the pain she brings.

She means no danger; she leaves us good sins.

Her price is pain, hurt for the joy she brings:

Paid in wails of thunder to curse her sins.

I do speak waste! Of love that hastes death rates:

Digging graves for fools with more heart and no brains,

Their hearts brave forth, taking the test love creates:

They fight back with brave hearts; they sing praise in the rains.

I see love. She comes as a harbinger.

She makes the way to our hearts much sweeter

So leave the icy cold winter: your bitter hate bringer

And leave a place in your heart for a bright summer.



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I am me. I am Me. I write when I want to be free.

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