The heart is a muscle,
and the nerves are electric.
Through this ongoing bustle,
the world skews geometric,
painting lovers as circles
and their worries as squares,
giving curves to their pulses
and angles to their cares.
They will start just as always
with both passion and thrill
with vibrant hues that amaze
as the moments hold still.
With a touch of their fingers
or the brush of their hands,
the sensation will linger
like a divine command,
but cloud nine’s not forever.
No, all love must evolve,
for life is too clever
with its problems to solve.
Their lives will become busy,
but still they will try
to ride out that tizzy,
let their love edify,
and hope to get through this–
as we’ll cheer for them, too–
all wishing for pure bliss
when they’re circles anew.
Now, this lovers’ tribute
must come to an end,
though their story continues
past the upcoming fin.
More will repeat this puzzle
and its painting in metric
’cause the heart is a muscle,
and the nerves are electric.
Photo by Oleg Magni from Pexels
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Oh, this flows along smoothly and beautifully, Joy. Very insightful, too. Salute!
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Thank you!
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ode to your mother lode perhaps
not me i see love dies
and the lies
of perfect unity
are both pollutions and illusions as well
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