Lotic Love

My lotic love, the nights are long, the flux of flame, a florid
Song. But paws to print, a pensive soul, a solemn breeze, a
Steeple gold. My lotic love, the puce of blood, the spruce
Of life, a mystic drum. And heart to veil, to bleed the light,
To perish tears, the bract of life. My lotic love, the scent of
Dawn, a claret wine, a soul to fawn. And passion-ache, the
Breach of breath, a brilliant wave, the streams of kef. Hence
The attic, attune to flame, enlove with verse, a russet pang.

My lotic love, the nights are long, the flux of flame, a florid
Song. But portrait plaques, imprint the soul, a sacred voice, a
Secret code. My lotic love, a wistful heart, an iron faith, an
Omic spark. And wings to flight, a swamic flare, to harness
Light, the lux of prayer. Hence the attic, attune to flame,
The ache of verse, the birth of pang.