An ode for my neverending Love
As the sun fades in the horizon, I shall rest my tired eyes upon your chest, beloved, beneathing in the shadow of our overwhelming tree; whom speaks the preach but knows the haggling, sealed under the tortoise armor…
The white horse lacked, but his armor was white-jacketed and blue-jeans with spurs of black and white, to match his genes.
She taunted him, and laughed and wimped, but he knew then the match was found and so he’d win.
Two moons have sat, and then he’s in, she’s won and now the seal is dealt. He doubts the chance but now he’s in, and out of this there is no win!
The dealing’s sealed under the sign of the tortoise imp.
They lived and laughed, and laughed and lived, until the frog appeared and singed. She sung the song of miles away, as him who once known know was ney. But torned away the plague was, with a pray.
More moons have sat, and now it’s here, the time when they would have to leave. The day was long and hot and cheap, so that is how they’ve made that trip. The sea was calm, of blue and green and they would laugh and live and dream.
The journey back was long and limp, for that that she may once had, now was wimped. The black bull howled and ripped and pouted, but he was nowhere near their hearts and touted. But our fair lady was not fright, for her god gentlemen was a delight! He smite the lady’s eye and heart, with his amazing daring smile.
His arms were strong and firm and might, for him for her was but a night! The night in jeans and gene of gold, the very best of treasures hold.
His stare was deep, of seas of green, the light that lighted out her dream. His mouth a fleshingly delight, his nose the very spot upon which her lips are bound to fall. His cheeks were bold, his chin: the end of her sweet mouth, upon his scowl. His body, merely a sign of gods on earth, angelic sight, her eyes delight.
His voice, the spell that charged her nights; his feather, the sweet voice of worlds collide. Pure art that gasps and spurs to life, she’d hear the trill and see the light, then she’ll revive to see the knight, sweet prince of life and king of heart.
But the story’s no story with no dragons to slay, and the princess was captured and closed in the tower of the atrocious delay. She strangled and clawded and managed her way, to escape the terror of the terrible decay. Her fair prince was near by, tangling his way, scaling the steps of his lovers bewail.
Yet again have they danced and they singed, and managed to laugh off the story they’ve seen. But the dangers were nowhere nearby to the end, and fate would again their story attempt.
As more moons passed by, the fortress was cradled and threatened to shatter the love that they had. When the clock struck two years, the empire was again confronting the menace of the crabbiest plague.
The frog, ass they known her, had struck once again and succeeded the prince’s attention to have. She giggled and grunted and spoken in maze, so the fair prince was bedazzled and spelled under her ways.
Our fair lady was astonished by her betroved betray, and barely has managed to stay off of his way. Yet, the love that united the two ones would fade?
A long series of tryouts the young couple overpassed, for the heart only knows what once they had had! So the god had defeated the pest once again, proving that true love trough the darkness prevails.
Still, the series of harm would not leave these two be, and again the heart win, the couple would see. For no dark night and sparkle and maids or good charms had managed to steal the sweet prince’s true heart. Their true selves would bring them united again, as no distance or cliff could their story dissolve.
A god life with good friend and emotions to share, had united the lovers and convinced them to dare. The throne is alive, and alive is the castle, for they are still fighting and learning and daring to love. No distance, no menace and no meaningful edginess are bound to threaten the temple they have.
For no story has ever a true end today, so the love birds have yet to continue the tale. But the storyteller says their pathways will reunite, thus the tale will try to reveal us the map to the treasure that the true hearts tie-up.
Though years and years and years have past, trough wrong and rights and fights they last!
 Actually a word, a portmanteaux word, in fact