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Dec 2014
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
A little more classical poetry for you.
Olivia Kent
Written by
Olivia Kent  Southampton, Hampshire.
(Southampton, Hampshire.)   
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