Love A Place - Poem by Mitta Xinindlu
Love is a place;
Love is a destination.
We all walk to love in difference a pace;
Even reach it via the streets of fornication,
We all want to be in love.
We want to reach this city
Where they ask even a chav,
'Where are you, Pretty? '
Confidently they answer, 'I'm in love'
A place full and melancholically linty.
Many and some of us
buy their way to the love town.
Some of us fret and fuss,
And strut our way there in nice gowns.
We can't take no bus,
Even though love is certainly a noun.
So I want to go to love also
To relax, laugh and cry.
To excite my torso,
And limbs that spry,
And be a certified Contralto
With excitosis and a distinguished wry
voice for I will sing many a tango;
Sing like a love citizen maestro.
I want to stay and remain there
And talk about sweet nothings.
And swim in ethereal stares,
Or engage in knot-tying,
And confess my undying cares
And despise and enjoy fighting.
Be in love, where all are scared
to be left alone free sighting.
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