Morning after morning as the sun
Doth sit upon her throne from the east
She poses to you the question
Why not give your heart a feast?
Not one of material things
Which soon fly away with the wind
But with seemingly little beings
Whom upon your heart so bid.
Your dreams hope to feel her warmth upon their skin
As they hear her whisper to your heart
They hope that her words will one day win
The battle you are so much reluctant to start.
I hope you never have to regret
Why you ignored the voice of your heart
Your room of solace is the mood into which you get
Sad that you didn’t throw a dart.
You might not hit the bull’s-eye for starts
But you would, no doubt, have tried.
Enough with the numerous planning charts
Just come alive and be your dreams’ bride.