A poem simply sounds the bell, of that which words could never tell.


A face that hides ten thousand secrets,
Eyes that reach as many miles
Into the corners of my soul,

Lips to kiss ten thousand times
And paint upon ten thousand smiles
From whence those secrets will be told.

Ten thousand silkworms spun the hair
Whose colour, darkest night gave style.
The stars within her hand she holds

And casts, with love, to whom she cares.
I think one fell to me awhile,
So I return, ten thousand fold.

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