A HARP'S SONG.
In love sparks fly,
a shooting star cascades down
cupid lorn skies, wishes rain forth
in enamored silver showers,
soothing moonlit balm for broken hearts.
The sun and night
waltz with fingers barely touching,
light up fiery dawns and dusks,
tokens of unending desire.
One brightens up
to end the darkness of a love lost,
the other throws ink
of the darkest shades on
thoughts of love.
Each goes its own way,
still love plays a harp's song
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