It is with me as the poor man's plea
For a change, to a hostel sleep
But not as deep as Poseidon's sea
Or as high as the Messiah's seat.
My love is mortal at best
When it rest, no jest can undo thy
vest,
For it sets in a heart with sinful
pests,
It rest amidst a fraudulent will.
It is with me as any mother's child,
My love for thee, is as odd as all
things rare.
K.Oni
No comments:
Post a Comment