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How word conveys thine yonder form is winter’s ice upon my ear, No mouth can so describe the warmth lay hous’d inside my heart endeared. Despite all speech that one might find, though vastly far it always spans, your essence will lay undefined, far beyond all ink-spotted hands. But here I stay ever toiling, grasping my pen yet unprepared, Cursive paper onward coiling, My crumpled sheets lay uncompared. So know my love you’re all to me beyond that which our words can see.
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Feb 25, 2014
Feb 25, 2014 at 8:36 PM UTC
Undefined (A Sonnet in 8 Syllable Lines)
How word conveys thine yonder form is winter’s ice upon my ear, No mouth can so describe the warmth lay hous’d inside my heart endeared. Despite all speech that one might find, though vastly far it always spans, your essence will lay undefined, far beyond all ink-spotted hands. But here I stay ever toiling, grasping my pen yet unprepared, Cursive paper onward coiling, My crumpled sheets lay uncompared. So know my love you’re all to me beyond that which our words can see.
Wanted to write a sonnet, but broke the rules and made it 8 syllables per line.
benjamin-adams
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Feb 25, 2014
Feb 25, 2014 at 8:36 PM UTC
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