Maturité dans L’Amour
Days pass, people grow, love is incubated within the soul
Guarded, he keeps it, always a hope remains that each she could be
the one, the light to his day, love kindled deep, showing the way
The She she may be, but a key he needs, patience, you see, to turn
her heart to he. For captured it was, in the settlers folly. She knows it
does not fit, leaves her less than whole. He sees from beyond,
a scope of something real, something true, to the heart of souls.
“Travel lightly, you fawn of love”
Time needs be spent and patience held, he aches for
a touch of the things unseen, the lasting images that haunt his dreams.
Now patience is a funny thing… you have it, don’t want it but need to
use it. Let love tarry in it’s blossoming form, time to grow
spent on nurturing the soul, the one fully formed, when
the two become a whole. He is capable of this and more
but why does it have to seem such a chore? He knows deep
down though he doesn’t want to believe, that the forces of this world
are destined and what will be, will be.