Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
HOW much do you love me, a million bushels?
Oh, a lot more than that, Oh, a lot more.
  
And to-morrow maybe only half a bushel?
To-morrow maybe not even a half a bushel.
  
And is this your heart arithmetic?
This is the way the wind measures the weather.
  1.3k
 
Please log in to view and add comments on poems