words and space, selected and arranged
True love is simple magic steeped in green.
It winds the breathing leaves where passion flows,
Which blesses blending lives in rising steam,
And obfuscates what stinks within their souls.
Love whispers verses to chrysanthemums
In humble incantations free of self,
Then parts the purple of a summer sun
In casting "scratch my tum tum" kitten spells.
Love reads the shadows on a sullen face,
And calms the tension in erratic breath.
It whips the storms that sky divergent fates,
Yet charms the colors of a marriage bed.
True love is simple magic, hand in hand.
It speaks the spell we two can understand.