He:
Oh, how I beseech to woo
From the moment I laid my eyes on you.
Who wouldn’t wonder of such that Fate
Brought unlikely souls like bait?
Here comes Cupid’s arrows flying
To our innocent hearts as its landing.
It is not something I wished
And child’s play can be suppressed.
But the tempest had to appease,
So I made Poseidon to please.
Bacchus, enough is that merrymaking
That I may be spared by the king.
Far and wide I had to go,
Lo, I’m surprised my love is just here so…
Come, hold tight to my hand,
Let our musicality form a band.
She:
Hug me to your heart’s content
That warmth can be competent.
Go, you have me to carry,
Just don’t let your piggyback hurt me very.
Let us hither under the stars,
Wish to shooting stars that never scarce.
I hope you don’t mind my long hair,
Perhaps the wind can move it, not tear.
Can you smell the breeze of the meadow?
Oh, I like to lie on it like a shadow.
Make haste, for time is to burrow,
Kiss me like there’s no tomorrow.
Salute to this allegory!
Be this love’s hymn of glory;
Here’s for my boo long before I’ve met
From your dearest, the poet.
Jul 8, 2014
Jul 8, 2014 at 3:54 AM UTC
He:
Oh, how I beseech to woo
From the moment I laid my eyes on you.
Who wouldn’t wonder of such that Fate
Brought unlikely souls like bait?
Here comes Cupid’s arrows flying
To our innocent hearts as its landing.
It is not something I wished
And child’s play can be suppressed.
But the tempest had to appease,
So I made Poseidon to please.
Bacchus, enough is that merrymaking
That I may be spared by the king.
Far and wide I had to go,
Lo, I’m surprised my love is just here so…
Come, hold tight to my hand,
Let our musicality form a band.
She:
Hug me to your heart’s content
That warmth can be competent.
Go, you have me to carry,
Just don’t let your piggyback hurt me very.
Let us hither under the stars,
Wish to shooting stars that never scarce.
I hope you don’t mind my long hair,
Perhaps the wind can move it, not tear.
Can you smell the breeze of the meadow?
Oh, I like to lie on it like a shadow.
Make haste, for time is to burrow,
Kiss me like there’s no tomorrow.
Salute to this allegory!
Be this love’s hymn of glory;
Here’s for my boo long before I’ve met
From your dearest, the poet.
