Poems come and poems go,

they twindle and winde,

though the hands of time.

We pass along the endless find,

of that one poem,

that is perfect you see,

Because, it was meant for you and me.

It speaks to hearts,

far and near,

that poem, that was so dear.

As you can see,

This is only meant,

for you and me.

Poems come and poems go,

but, only one is true,

As my heart,

Speaks to you.

Peace