I do but see those parts of All,
That were never seen before,
When your hand embraces mine,
It’s Love forevermore.
In deep and lost demanding times,
With such scoured memory,
To what my friend do I owe this thing,
As the love you’ve shown to me?
No judgment’s breath, no standard’s bear,
Just be…just be…just be…
And what is left when this till is dry?
It’s the Love to set you free.
©2010 Thomas P. Grasso All Rights Reserved ☮ ℓﻉﻻ٥ ツ