David Wood (07 April 1950 / London)
The poetry of love is never dead
When couples kiss and lose their head
In romantic talk for no rhyme or reason
As they stroll in the park whatever the season.
And songbirds sing in the trees above
And hearts are warmed with talk of love
As couples sit on benches in the park
And remind themselves of loves first spark.
The poetry of love is ceasing never
This true love that fails to sever.
The sense of belonging is plain to see
This poetic love between you and me.
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