I dare not choose between beauty and brawn,
like between fish and hare there is silence,
not capering for win but lasting for a limp,
She was better off pink than blue as she matched,
the overcoat with sandals and roamed,
a little leap for lark could unsettle her and the dry fog,
as a pitcher for her I could swim in a swamp,
delicate crimson blue odoured nasty lost that,
matters for luck more than the lady could smile,
I hesitated and then was shy of open cab,
dust the storm and seek revenge on Gods?
It’s a lie nonetheless love and she kneaded the dough,
making me think chessboard is for the gamers,
till I heard her singing and it was a melancholic tune,
for the town when everyone sold,
love to the lord and honed a concert for God!
In the Amen Love is what is to be.