Poetry is the sacred fruit of love,
Resting in the heart as an euphoric essence,
Yet it is still a complex paradox,
Once shared by those of elders.
A gift of Aphrodite, the goddess of love and beauty.
Such passion that plucks the strings of a heartbeat so tender
So pure that one’s soul wants to surrender.
The softest of words spoken so sweetly to one’s ear.
Melting one with sweet sonnets of coos.
Words that express such words of love so delicately.
This is poetry…The fruit of love.

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