-1- One day a Beauty, to a Prince appeared The attraction, instant, definitely clear Love at first sight begins this story A handsome Prince, for Princess, for glory But Beauty was greater than any folklore You'll come to sense it, should you read more She had this passion, deeply unfilled Her life, a tightrope, of unbalanced thrills She longed for more, an appetite for a man Her scent could attract him, but so would her tan Someone she never met, someone unique Someone whose interest would have her own likewise piqued Stay awhile and I shall tell you A Love Story that would one day come true

-53- He fished for a venue, started telling her tales Some stories, like minnows, others, like whales ! A few came from his dreams, his comfort sleep zone Some tended to rattle, others shook her bones ! Whatever the fable, folktale, or fiction He'd creatively weave the truth with diction It was in this truth and his love she was drawn When the narration didn't stimulate and she'd otherwise yawn She'd always leak a smile whenever she sighed Usually not long after her tears had dried Because whenever she listened to her handsome mate Her arousal would crave to repeatedly anticipate Their story to come true for them to belong With each other, forever, their whole lifelong

-139- He wondered one day if he could curry a patron To be his answer to his struggling situation An idea so primitive and used centuries ago By talented artists who simply lacked dough Perhaps they needed funds to purchase supplies To put on a performance, or to share their surprise But some of the money was needed to survive To keep the talent, the efforts, even the artist alive Some patrons are people who wish to be entertained Others have a heart of gold to share their earthly gains But patrons are supporters who simply believe That a nameless nobody needs a chance to achieve But most of all they believe in the dream being chased And in the person trying to live it should not go to waste

-163- A summer's sojourn, which never seemed to last Recalled her to the days of ancient times past So close to the ocean, though she’ll rarely pay a visit To walk along the coast, or simply to sit She decided one day, to re-read his love letters Barefooted, on the beach, in shorts and a sweater She kept them all bundled, and tightly tied But opened each one, read them, and cried And every so often, she'd close her eyes To unveil them only to glimpse the skies As sunset approached, the daylight diminished The late evening hours were enough time to finish She sat there and re-bundled for the dark of the day All by herself, until the sun went away