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I like a rhyme that curls the toes and mists the brow
telling a tale as fresh as tomorrow that comes in a dream but is real
and chills the heat of the restless kiss, escaping a lover’s lips.

Nothing spoken caresses the impact on the senses
like a passionate poem with soul-filled stanzas
I like a rhyme that curls the toes and mists the brow.

To a reverie back in time to the moment that captured the soul
lost in the soul-mate meeting, found in the loss of the Self
and chills the heat of the restless kiss, escaping a lover’s lips

O what has become of the reverie that comes in a dream but is real
longing for belonging, for only the Lost and the Found
I like a rhyme that curls the toes and mists the brow
and chills the heat of the restless kiss, escaping a lover’s lips