17.12.10


But, for I should live a life
not of my own
but, of the love for which
wafts the wings of my soul;
trumping all and dies.
before me like a cascading wake
on a beach of stone.

Love is her tenderness
glance and touch.
for to die with but a
grasp, or to live with only
the beauty in the minds eye
would be torture.

You,
in such esteem shall feel
as I've felt
and,

I
Shall love the one who forever
whits my quill.

blessed is your way and betrothed,
my wish.
Please, my dear, don't fold away.

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