by Melchor F. Cichon
1986
I think I know what love is.
It is a shower, a song,
A mirror and a candle
In moments of solitude.
But it can also be a spring
Of sorrows, of broken dreams,
Of broken homes.
Or a nail in one's coffin.
Of sorrows, of broken dreams,
Of broken homes.
Or a nail in one's coffin.
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