Never my Love
cut the edges of time
and vision tomorrow yesteryear, rushing
in the creeks of water down the
rocks of sudden fall
wake doesn't matter turning the glide
that surf the wind, goes on and on
like angels of blues, telling the
ocean floor come and rest
oh! glad tiding smooth the fresh
valley of tears, letting go
as the heart fonder; a joy of lasting
spirit to love, until never die
lives to die forever...
poem by Antonio Liao
Added by Poetry Lover
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