The world, it spins—
But why?
The sun, it glows—
But why?
Poets compose their tender prose—
But why?
For you, my love, for you.
Each bloom, each hue,
each morning dew,
For you, it’s all for you.
My heart beats soft,
And forever true—
Always, and only for you.
About the Creator
Sandor Szabo
I’m looking to find a home for wayward words. I write a little bit of everything from the strange, to the moody, to a little bit haunted. If my work speaks to you, drop me a comment or visit my Linktree
https://linktr.ee/thevirtualquill
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Where's the Glory?
In breaking news, rehabilitated Republican Senator Johnnie Johnson (Pronouns: HE, HIM, HIS) called a press conference from the Men’s room of the New Orleans Louis Armstrong International Airport, Concourse B, across from the Ignatius Reilly’s Lucky Dog stand. The Senator had just returned from a sexual reorientation rehabilitation program in Memphis, TN after being publically disgraced at a Buckee’s Truckstop restroom soliciting sex from an undercover cop three months ago. He is a founding member of the Reformed Christians for Christ, a conservative, pro-family and ex-gay advocacy group. In the spirit of being reborn, Senator Johnson invited reporters to marvel at his plans for a major remodeling of airport bathrooms.
By Cathy Schieffelin5 days ago in Humor
Comments (3)
Poets compose their tender prose but why? Nicely Done!!
Awww such a lovely poem 🥰❤️❤️❤️
Very lovely