To My Lady Poem by Adebayo Caleb

To that Lady,
It's exciting to be loved; to whom his heart belongs. He sits with her even in illusions. He is never spared from hallucinations though it may seem fallacious. A growling heart'a sickened mind enveloped in pathetic love. A love which is over-exaggerated, over-expressed, under-understand, so far from estimation. It is laved in discomfort, dried with a towel of passion. It sheds white tears of innocence. If love is a crime; it's better a crime, for it ironically imprisons. Every time you look up, cloud full of rain may rain hail, perhaps dew.

Lady, to whom his belongs, do you mind deceit? Albeit, the daughters of Philistine whisper. It is a faint filthy faithful heart could abhor.Many friends, my colleagues called destruction.When your love burns, they could quench with wet witty mouth. A pretence of concern, an imagined extinction.Narration, a prodron to cue in a guile. Love to them is hilarious, as do as exploiting. If you must hear, tune not sarcastically dolorous.
Your love,
Man