Love is illusion as real as the sun. Warmth it baths you in, with hope lighting your way. Finally sun sets below the horizon, Breaking illusion into pieces of dismay. Love is a song as enchanting as drum. Loudly it echoes its passion forever and more. Melody tired in repeat, same themes numb. Drumsticks are left to tell stories with snore. Food spoil, and steels rust. Bubbles of love may just end with bust.