Fortunate Love
Fortune loved its devouring,
Forever the rush of heaven,
Inside this is hatred of a kind
I want to describe in the end.
For luck is a crime on nature,
And it created mines of gold
That is the complexion of youth,
Of lovely need to indulge and decipher.
Fortunate may be the ruling
Of a man who is head of the family.
Loved he is, loved his head is.
poem by Naveed Akram
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
