Need For My Love

Poem By My love loves me not

I breathe a word,
which none but one heard.
I wait and wait, for I love her dear.
But her heart has one, her own dear.
Her face, as beautiful as any rose of any place merry.
Her lips, red and dark as ripe cherry.
Her voice sweet,
steady to the beat.
No matter, if I am to be expose to her hate,
for I shall wait, and wait.

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