Passion Poem by welkin siskin
Passion
Let love not slip from minds, For the sacred of life known
Has never been found purer as love.
Love may have been infused
With resentment and hate,
Glossed over with abhorred blemishes,
The fount through which the life contents its last fond of whit is but love,
And it is hence the yearnings of all mortal souls
Monday, October 16, 2017
Topic(s) of this poem: passion
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7/29/2025 11:36:31 AM # 1.0.0
Melt and die. You speak my language. Eloquently.