The magic of myriad charms and spells did woo the heart to action and words, tender as dew and so very few, to keep alive to realize a promise. Love spent in wait with a heart in spate, unmindful of the clamber up the hill or the toss in foam.
Looks, sighs, gestures, glances all lent an eager hand, till woven words the progress of love could find, the fearless confidence that comes to your ardent call, to tread on higher course willed by destiny to stand tall.
And life's mature friendship gains fruition in autumn's plenty, weaving unseen bonds of union with our wishes, our tastes and our joys all alike, to strike the same chord in each heart. Till you see the hour that bore a lifetime with the desolate sweeping of the scythe of Time, in the lingering eloquence of love.
That hour has come, rise and be seen, and reach for a lifetime distilled in a second, to keep a promise over all else.
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