your idea of what love is and mine
somehow do not intertwine
nor do either follow that tritely trodden fine
line
I could drink of the' like flowing warm wine
if I thought with my own sullen soul you could
dine
look me in the heart and give me a sign
it is only for the' in which in my hollowed
heart I pine
one day soon though shalt always be mine
with the' as my sweet thoughtful lover
my soul doth brightly shine.........
(written Jan 5,1991)