Why Must I Sorrow?
Impressions breed distinction,
beyond in dreams, they lead
poets to fascination, whom play
in streams of inpsiration.
The impression that your body
lies, intwined, with mine.
How this aches, one wish
and now I cry.
I listen and intervention is
a crime, the wind passes
in silence to die.
Vanilla hopes where her
hips swope, each finger tracing
what lies within the mind.
I miss the agate pedestal
as it will dull without
her kind.
Oh, sweet sorrow, what is laid
low each time it's her
I spy.
beyond in dreams, they lead
poets to fascination, whom play
in streams of inpsiration.
The impression that your body
lies, intwined, with mine.
How this aches, one wish
and now I cry.
I listen and intervention is
a crime, the wind passes
in silence to die.
Vanilla hopes where her
hips swope, each finger tracing
what lies within the mind.
I miss the agate pedestal
as it will dull without
her kind.
Oh, sweet sorrow, what is laid
low each time it's her
I spy.
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