In the masquerade of love, a harlequin’s tune,
an impulsive song ‘neath the crescent moon.
A melody of love spread in notes so bright,
A festival of hearts on a tender night.
Sometimes life serves us scrambled–with eggshells.
Have you forgotten the melody’s embrace,
A serenade that time cannot erase?
Housewife humoresque, a laughter’s call,
In the domestic ballad of a love that enthralls.
Why must love find itself walking on eggshells?
Humpty Dumpty sat on the wall of affection,
His fragile heart broke like a Faberge collection.
But the pieces were mended with each tender word,
In the cadence of laughter, love is always heard.
To laugh is to come out of your eggshell.
In the Song of Hearts, a ballad is sung,
that mends eggshells when the damage is done.
A symphony of laughter and tender play,
As love’s humoresque leads the way.
To live one must crack open the egg’s shell.
Have you forgotten the capricious charm,
A love that weathers–a love that is warm?
The harlequin in love sings a song so divine,
In every jest, she mends the hurt with every line.
Life without love–without laughter, is not to live, and begs hell.
WoPoLi 
Leave a comment