Deep diving, up streaming in the currents of fast worldly desires,
Oozing the fecundity of contemporary chaste spirit,
The masked scent of retro and rich, a shushed lilt of unusual and antique,
Hidden from every eye, deep under the sempiternal deceiving surface,
Rests a pyrrhic palpating heart, that vintage heart.
Melting in the tumultuous fire of materialistic rage,
Freezing in the scintilla of fiery lust and deceptive love,
Time travelling to the remains of a classy demesne,
Using cloak of quirkiness like a blue evil eye charm,
Weaved with gossamer, not wanting to tear from the pull, my vintage heart.
A vintage heart knows, what’s right, isn’t usually in sight,
The urban seductions don’t gambol like a wild vintage ripple,
For today’s love trend is to give up on finding any new alterations, in a sigh,
And since such love stories lasts not long enough and cripple,
It is the vintage hearts that imbues classic stories amongst relations so fickle.
Where can thee findeth a heart of classic vibes?
Demurring of dalliance, having coffee on a timber table,
Playing records, conflating the platina of time,
Speaking selectively, for words reveal the secret lagniappe,
A vintage heart lies exactly where urban deceptions don’t comply.