French Kiss B[l]ends Bliss Poem by Jonathan ROBIN

Draw near, my dear, to land of dreams,
to shadows weaving silver streams,
to nights of selenite that build
from man to maid faith's span instilled
melt wraith fence, difference, hope’s gleams,
will breach tall walls, leave each joy filled.

Joy's greetings send to one fair friend
who still dwells far, too far away,
our paths may bend, past troubles mend
through catalyzing star who'll stay
forever, ever and a day,
shine, never end, true love luck lend.

Draw near, my dear, and take my hand,
far from oil spills, life's bitter pills
we'll travel through French wonderland,
whose dales and hills quite fit the bill
to range strange scenery at will,
change from restraints, paint town red and
without delay we'll double take
from lies, disguise, wise, understand
life's crystal beauty flake by flake,
love's karma written on life's sand
no second thoughts, naught underhand,
make no mistake, we'll, sharing, wake.

Draw near, my dear, let us sustain
shared strength, ensure tuned strings remain
strife and strain free, find buoyancy
to bounce back, track the way to see
horizons blue and to retain
refrain both optimistic, free.

From gay Paris to spotless sea
we'll coast at leisure, east, and west,
north, south in synchronicity,
you are deserving of the best.
I'll satisfy each small request
fulfill all wishes fervently.

Draw near, my dear, though Past felt cold,
when nights oppressed, together bold,
we’ll weave sure way without a bend
from start to journey’s happy end,
where dark dissolves as warmth we hold
within with friend supporting friend.

Your eyes through mine may penetrate
the nooks and crannies of fair France,
French sights and smells, well integrate
warm bread, black berets, and advance
to harmony as circumstance
lends second chance to celebrate.

Draw near, my dear, here let us chart
the way to reach contented heart,
the way to learn, the way to teach,
the way where each may share with each,
the way pure ends, maintained from start
to end, lend, spend, send silent speech.

We'll visit Nice, St. Tropez, spend
days and nights in carefree bliss,
mock Time through rhyme, together penned.
May Riviera witness kiss
right off the Richter scale to send
emotions' oceans, fears dismiss.

Draw near, my dear, thoughts two share, send,
should flourish, nourish, poor defend,
important message France wrote must
not be deformed, dust-stormed, for trust
support, shan’t ever condescend,
transcending dangers, stings unjust.

That message reads Equality
to which Fraternity they add,
and, most important, Liberty -
whose statue makes dictators mad.
There's every reason to be glad,
take French leave from conformity.

Draw near my dear, through cloudy skies
we’ll beam to light stream and surprise
whatever weather harsh would whirl
about, around, with squall, pall, swirl,
churn cream from mist dismissed and rise
with cheer sight clear, translucent pearl.

From Promenade des Anglais
we'll journey northward to Calais
and you shall be my Eurostar
life lines uncrossed may no holds bar
to taste sans haste or waste hope's way
to seize each moment, see no scar.

Draw near, my dear, nor flood, nor tide,
shall break your banks or override
endeavours, rainbow links, proposed,
nor undermine, design exposed.
The bridges that your love supplied
with grace in place remain, abide.

We'll reach, enjoy, each pristine beach,
no castles in the air, each teach
the other, filling missing links.
Life's petals, reds and blushing pinks,
will know no thorns, date with a peach
each day shall show like as like thinks.

Draw near, my dear, my song shall charm
birds from their trees, disease disarm,
to soothe, to move, new smiles discern
that spread from head to heart to earn
an inner peace where balm and calm,
infectious, caught by all, return.

Fair France awaits for two to wed
and share fair future, look ahead
to challenge met and overcome,
to interplay, minds never dumb,
and when time comes, all's done and said
no sad regrets, no humdrum scrum.

Draw near, my dear, no strap sheet white
should trap your sap, wrap mapless night,
for sore, hurts, heal, hope sets fresh score,
links light to laughter evermore.
I sketch wings stretched for future flight.
For you I'd write, draw this and more.

If these delights your mind may move,
all lets and hindrance we'll remove,
refusinging grooves, French letters write
of bliss secure in pure delight,
what seems tale's end is start to prove
French kiss lends bliss, makes all things right.