There is a tent of romance, a place in the soul that the lonely single heart goes,
and finds contentment in the folds of sentiment, delight and peace.
It used to be a melancholy place that I visited, for about 1800 Fridays, tinged with self-pity,
but once in a great while, the emulsion of sentiment immersed in softness
with a touch of tired, made me lay satisfied in a sweet fog,
in love with love, buzzed with wine of the soul.
But a fortnight ago, the place was replenished,
my soul was ravished by fresh hope,
and the tent is being readied for her, long prayed for, longed for and oft doubted,
now I see that the sweet fog knows all, and will bring her to me,
if I but welcome its sweetness and allow its intoxication to rule my heart
and stir its ancient passions and insight. Muses arise!
She will share my cup,
We will be lost in the sweet fog,
Bearing its affection on each other.
c 2011
Tent of Romance