I’ve been to the prairies.
& on the faintest hour,
A love remembered as sour.
& ‘pon the wings of fairies,
my memories does it scour.
A vision bittersweet,
from which I can’t, but cower;
A weakening peck of power
of one truthful deceit,
Crouching to dread — devour.
‘pon fields of crimson a flower,
& sweetest roses just as supple.
as thine sultry silky touch,
Would my utterance be much;
Rendering each of your cheeks as such:
A spring morning dewy apple?
& yet more sweet that tint of yours.
much as thine angel-carved contours;
Inspiring awe — divine yet subtle.
Commanding blind acquiescence
to ail O’ me — to take thine delicate detours.
no longer can I seek potions, healing, or cures.
I only seek the shadow of your essence.
A Love remembered as divine yet as sour;
A Lifetime in a moment — eternity in an hour.
& most of all ,my all, my own self’s quintessence….
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