Within the tendrils of your soft embrace
may I not be too weak in words to find
a worthy phrase to celebrate this place
nor waver unsteadily as I climb
for in each thread that my design must choose
if but one unravels, the whole to lose.
Engaged by the novelties of your will
I rest between the pages soon to turn
engendering each moment as I till
unearthing fragments of a broken urn
contenting love once copiously poured
though destroyed now twice, may the third restore?
Contained within the passion of your kiss
can I be completely thus entwined,
naivety of heart cannot express;
to be is mortal, to be more, divine,
compelling these pages emphatically told,
the humblest parts redeeming the whole.
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