O lovers’ words are mostly lies.

Their cross-my-heart and I-love-you,

Are lessens learned to win a prize.

How sweet it is with open eyes to say.

I love you when it is true.

Love is a thing to seek to prove or else disprove,

Selfish, unstable on the move…..

While we have time for hovering,

To brood a season on our love.

A spark springs outward from our lions to light,

Like Genesis the dark.

Our minds are bent to hear any other words but

Darling, Honey, Sweetie and Baby,

Then our children walk the earth.