until the final syllable of time
does not, by any trial or judgment, place
an urgency on this bouquet of rhyme
that re-declares my love; that would describe
the sweet abyss that slowly drew me in;
the amber liquid love I yet imbibe;
the kiss of life that dares me, kiss again.
When life with you is over; verses read.
When words no longer form within my soul.
When light has gone and all is dark instead,
my love will yet remain as ever, whole--
as long as lives the power of the quill;
as long as there is verse and longer still.
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