Love was immortal at 60's, 6th street! Not in pages but lasted to their own 60. When the wise men said only fools rush in, But falling in love nevertheless controlling. When The Beatles sang ode to that love, And lamposts served as perch to the dove. How unrealistic this story seems in 2020, Where immortal turned to mortal, suffering casualty.
That 60's, 6th street lampshade remembers, The first when love glistened like embers. See your grandparents still holding hand, They made a journey to 60s, to the end! A union of love that brought you to world, The infinitely divine love bud that curled. The 60's, 6th street is craving a love sonnet, But look, ballads of toxicities is what it get.
The Beatles looks at us all suffering, Sees the love here that's sleeping. Where his guitar is gently weeping, And the 60's, 6th street silently lamenting. It needs a quick fix up and cleaning, The fallen leaves of toxicity swirling. The fused broken lamp that once glimmered, Is waiting to be turned on and get repaired. Every ounce of mistake measured needs learning, 60's, 6th street dust needs true love's sweeping. ~Inktrovert