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would that I
could love you more
than poets e’er could pen
or dreamers curse
the seasons
come between
arms to overflowing
lips of morning blush
of all I’ve known
no other near the same

by my sweet caress
breath of winter snow
ashes fall –
to hide the path
reason sleeps
where longing
put the bed up long ago
crushed beneath
a silent
let me in

lest touch betray
this faultless fate –
of memories made true
denied a sacred vow
a moment cleft
from all the rest
these thoughts
of turning home
another day
ten thousand years
from now

. . .