Retrieve the passion thou shared.
Good sir indeed.
Pray show thyself as keen in action.
Ridicule the lady not.
The lady of seasons bears a perpetual gift.
Yours for eternity.
An honest emerald, captured from a den of thieves.
For the woman sighs.
Crying quietly unto her handkerchief,
Created of distressed lace.
The lady carries but a precious cargo.
A freight ne'er to become forgot.
Madame is a beauty, a butterfly of carbon made.
Her character build of moorland stone.
She weeps daily for you.
Before your child be born.
But her lord is sadly gone.
(C) LIVVI