Exotic Things Poem by Peter S. Quinn

Exotic things,
Emotional strings;
Love of the spirit,
Cleaver and wit.

Keep every aspect,
Show every respect;
Letters of the alphabet,
Spellings, colors, red.

Amour in love,
Like a peaceful dove;
Sweet and fragile,
Tender with style.

Opening a heart,
From the first start;
Waves from the sea,
Billows inside of thee.

Love is so timeless,
Always eager and fresh;
For words of the tongue,
It keeps it so young.

Use every word,
And the meaning will flirt;
Come life to you,
So different and new.

The vernacular spark,
Will bliss up the dark;
And give you blue sky,
That hard is to defy.

Exotic things,
Onward it clings;
Bouquet of meaning,
Of personal dreaming.

How I love thee,
Who gives to see;
What is there on,
In books that are done.

Scriptures and books,
Flocks of herds;
Contents and looks,
The flying birds.

How I love thee,
For always and always;
A knowledgeable sea,
All playfully phrase.

You, authors gave,
Of a golden tongue;
Thoughtful and brave,
Eternally young.