Days, O’ days stories they gather,
About every thing living and add,
To the passed by time we fancifully call,
As history; at every moment begins,
A new story for the day to write,
And in every story of the living resides,
Life of a wonderful person none can rewrite.
The fascinating fact of life, Oh’, in fate written,
Fate none knows or in perfection can predict,
That makes life a wonderful charm to live,
Ah’ Days, they wait for the fanciful acts of fate,
Where themes of stories are written and we,
The perfect blend of actors none can replace,
We laugh, we cry, we celebrate stories well written.
The beauty of life is, that in every act a choice given,
The good and the bad, the wonderful and dirty,
And in every choice we make, ah’ strengthens the theme,
Nothing in life by accident happens or by a wrong theme,
Misplaced the living or by the choice of a misguided.
Ah’ so did the living soul of mine to you, Oh’ dear,
I came, through wonderful and weird, and we met.
Then days passed through our times, dark in blank,
No stories, no theme as for you to make a choice,
Time waits, the living and everything else paused,
Oh’ dear, there are no themes beyond already written,
And the theme before you and I as we understand,
In love between our souls we both know romances,
Until you makes the choice, blank will remain the days.
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