Sunday, 14 August 2011

It just happens,
Once in a lifetime or so they say,
That feeling we all desire
When the aroma of romance smells
And the glory of beauty on you shines
Something as intense and joyous
Yet sorrowful as love is enkindled
It seems proof like no other
That nothing exists but the joy of love
You are not living but are alive
You become a singer of rhythm of love
You believe you fly with wings of a dove
That’s when you know you are not in love
But you love it… I mean Luv It.

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