Piccola Scimmia Poems
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A Concept Of Love
Frantically searching for the word, love.
Desperately wanting you to pronounce, the word love.
Forcing it into my own mind, the word love.
Convincing myself that it is true, the word love.
Why is it that we all talk about it, this word love?
Why is it that we all try to find it, this thing love?
Some elusive concept that must be,
Some kind of mind invention indeed.
It's as if each droplet conjures a smile onto a flower,
Caressing the leaves, amidst its shower.
Flower seems to gleam and leaves seem to revive.
Colors deepen and brighten, all at the same time.
The air, cooling and refreshing.
The earth, supple and quenching.
Each raindrop, magnifying beauty.
Each droplet, amplifying duly.