Strange as ut may seem, I'm writing lots and lots of poetry about Love these days.
Hmmm...whatever might have caused that obsessive productivity!
"Gifted, now"
By Scaramouche, the po(t)et, now - and again
The world may turn, and offer years of beauty,
travels, secrets, mysteries abound
Yet still, the greatest treasure of them all
In your embrace, I finally had found
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