“A Fine Line Between Love”
Stone walls do not a prison make,
Nor iron bars a cage,
My mind to verse does freely take,
Across the empty page.
Her laughter fades, her beauty wanes,
Her touch, a fleeting fire,
But poetry’s eternal strains,
Lift me to heights still higher.
No mistress fair with eyes so bright,
No whispered words so sweet,
Can hold my heart with such delight,
As rhythms I repeat.
No jealous pangs, no bitter tears,
No fickle heart to break,
Just endless joy throughout the years,
For poetry’s own sake.
For in the lines, a world I find,
Of passion, grief, and mirth,
A tapestry of every kind,
Of beauty on this earth.
So let her go, with all her charms,
Her presence I’ll not miss,
I’m held within these rhythmic arms,
By poetry’s sweet kiss.