The poetry that comes to me
Is the love that comes to you.
But first comes the love,
The sweet, sweet love.
The line invented by my mind
Is the praise that comes to you.
But first comes the love,
The sweet, sweet love.
The eye that finds my eye
Is the look that comes from you.
A love, they say, can die.
But love is all I do.
Always in love, and always free,
Because the poetry comes to me.
