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Love’s Magic

J Ann Crowder

They—two souls in twain
Left not upon this earth a stain
 
Perfectly as they were, hewn together in a lover's toil
Abiding there, for eternities, planting seeds among a richness of soil
 
Deepening their roots—in love, in song, in journey, and in mystery
Seeking light resting on compassion’s gentle hearth—sung deeply
 
'Tis longing roots growing fiercely by a twightlight’s magic
Watching doves rise with a morning sun's beam—glowing with their love's carefully knitted fabric
 
Growing lilies sweet, daffodils, and rose gardens amongst their fields
Peach groves, and apple blossoms sprung too—with passions, sealed
 
As time presses, magnificent colors explode—new brazen tapestries born
Ever blossoming upon each new moment, joyfully—unfolding a mystic garden of delights adorned
 
In twain, toiling their garden, blossoming true
On richness of soil spent by their enduring love, fair—brimming with soft hues of blue
 
At last, shinning with firefly trees burning with autumn, scorching forests red
Thus magnifying beneath flowery fields of purple, glowing dust—a royal love upon their radiant, bowing heads

This is for your own interpretation. It's my own definition of love. Written on July 1st, 2016.

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