How does your handwriting look now-
Like an inky beetle crawling across white paper
following a map or wandering haphazardly
Across some page?
From coloured inner space come different dreams,
And images swimming within inner seas,
But, essentially, it’s love that fills our hearts,
Directs the movements of our hands.
Yet love can twist, stretch, bend and snap.
Sometimes love fails,
Sometimes love wounds,
Sometimes love gives pain Oh, no!
Oh, my sweet Love…
But deep inside, goodwill prevails.
Good will come again.
I do not doubt.
Don’t doubt, my love.
How my heart sings 