By poet Theodore Beckley
The edge of our emotions are
sometimes stretched
to their very limits they almost snap
we laugh we cry
we swear and defy
but somehow, sometime
we manage to make up and ride
The lack and the pain
the stress for no gain
do drift us apart
the strength of our bond
the lines of our blood
somehow, sometime
still work the wonder
that makes us unite
Thursday, November 22, 2007
Love that goes round
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