When I kissed you

In an arid waste of that cheek

The  tangle of your hair did dissect

Indulged in making a tale brief

Of some sombre trivial demise

Of hope forlorn or of rainy nights

And the communication between two hearts

Flowered perhaps in meadows of grass

Sweet whispers stopped not

A song of soul on warm lips

Neither charm away nor stop now

The wonder of love in mind’s crypts.

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