***********************************************
Hate is a word that is not
Love, I am told, is more precious than gold.
Love, I have read, is hot.
But Hate is the verb that to me is superb
And Love but a drug on the mait
Any kiddie in school can Love like a fool,
But Hating, my boy, is an Art.
***********************************************
Was it a dream, or is it real
The closeness of that person you feel
The wind in the sky blow the dream away
But the memory will always stay
Why do the good dreams always shatter?
The special ones that really matter
Please let me sleep the whole night through
And let me dream my dream of you
******************************************************
Page 9 Of Poetry