Heartbeats; drum beats leave as do the falling leaves.
As animals we panic; life will never be as delightful as before.
Our blood; that holds all our secrets veins and purges and we concentrate absolutely on love.
Our pulse indicates our fervor.
Heartache; perhaps…but we live to live. Our imprint will not dissipate into some swamp.
But, it will lie upon a beautiful lily pad and house the orchestra of frogs and engulf the joy of the children; our reproduction which capture and captivate them.
