Here’s a likkle poetic dialect of my own…

Love Died © 2008

Wat ah grief an ah wailing!

Bells ah-ringin signallin she deat.

Wat ah youngun she wah, barly could fin ah coffin fer fit hah likkle body.

But is die she die fer true.

Wat ah pretty fing she wah wrappin hah han roun im neck, trohwing hah head back juss so wile she laff.

Im like dat plenty, youssou ncourage hah dee more.

I wondah wedah im gohn admit dat ee miss hah.

Grief des do some plenty mahjie in peoples brains, ou know.

Deh seh she still roun in dee Spirit juss like she doh die.

Hah eyes fulla tears fe im, not mining im kill hah.

She waitin fer dem to reunite gin n hehven.

Hollin hah arms out an jussa waitin fer im to tek hah back.

Deh say ee dohn cut im nose fer spite im face when ee drive dee knife in hah.

I seh she shoulda marco im fer mek sure im keep imself fer hah, stead ah worries bout im showerin hah wid im feelings.

Cuz now she gohn ee don fin im anoder.

Some oder pretty fing fer hol im head an laff at im joke, mek im feel better in im mihn.

But Love, she cahn die from im hart.