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Oct 2018
I sleep tonight anxious to rise,
And kiss your lips as sweet as wine,
So I awaken to surprise,
The woman lying there is mine.

My dreams no match for when I rise,
Drunk on her love like sweetest wine,
That she loves me is my surprise,
I love her and her love is mine.

The sun could someday fail to rise,
But still I would drink of her wine,
A sunless day is no surprise,
For my light is this love of mine.

Her touch is all I need to rise,
She’s rarer than the finest wine,
When our flesh meets to my surprise,
She says to me, “You, too, are mine.”
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Written by
notthepoethewantstobe  M/USA
(M/USA)   
372
     --- and Robert Boelts
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