As hours goes by
Dawn after dawn
Season after seasons
And tears mapping face,
I’m still fading.

There are many
Means of writing
Mostly
In caves.

Art of loving is a complicated Ar
it must not be too Abundant or too
and Moderation is an hard option t

A fool i was to rest on beauty,
To lean my back on gratitude,
On just a sight and nothing but
Just a sight of what i cannot
Do nothing but please.

How will thine love as handful,
is it as hate would make a flare?
Heart would be burned into dark as
But some will bare to inhale
The smell.

Pretend to sleep tight and secretl
bare interest so if light will dec
aware and if the night will yawn w
are famously put to rest.

I call you Art
Beautiful, interesting
Expressive, talented
And yet so delicate.

Words should be plain
And simple
But always jumping
Down in style.

Oh sleep and rest thy dazzling eye
Nor snore aloud with breath-stinks
Countenance cover’s it or lay stil
Of thy thoughts out bare; stay sti
Claws or brows; Oh now it’s mire,

O, ye the bright sky summon thee
Before the crimson light forsake n
With the numb cloud morosely still
So does the teardrop– warmish will
Lightening’ a little or with a pi