Love

Time is steady. The heart is a mad drummer, as it awaits for she who can only bring it to rhythmic pattern Seconds turn minutes, minutes turn hours, the minds rings as if it was part of Saturn Has love become phrase,much more than touch or feel? Days turn months, I begin to fear years Found in hope but lost in doubt, I dream a dream where sleep is trap You hide your truth and I'll hide my lies, to seek is to venture afraid of what I'd find. Love.