Savant Of The Heart

Something takes
over us we must
define our truth
of what we love.

Fall down does a
liquid it is an ink
to blot superficial
things I do think.

What we are in a
prose of love rose
from drawn odes,
my mind’s abode.

I will try be soft
to bring a smile
I have want of to
lift what defiles.

Words we’ve left
with a bitter taste
they reflect angst
a love does erase.

In all my might I
delve a mind into
clouds abound to
see I still love you.

I turn to think a
copious amount
of thought I see
new that I found.

A love turned an
imbecile like me
feel as if a savant
of heart’s industry.

©jwinchester