An abundance of love is, perhaps, all I could give to you.
In Turkish delights,
In cozy nights,
I just want to make you smile. Your smile. What a view.
Love is a weird substance.
Made of sighs,
Joyful (sad) cries,
Happy eyes.
Sex.
The latter has minor importance
But feels good, brings balance.
You are a comfortable silence.
That first daisy.
The sound of morning birds.
The whole world is crazy,
If this isn’t love. No words
Can help me say this, but I’ll try:
You are the pure bliss of a starry sky
For a child born in a big city.
Oh, i do pity those,
Who have never seen it,
Who will never feel that glee:
This sky might have no limit,
But every star in it belongs to me.
Olga Cosse Poetry 