To me you cut like
Maple leaves no shorter than a song.
This willowed turf may never be as bashful
once you've gone
perhaps
this is so beacause my heart regretfully
declared to you my adoration
marked with a hyperbole.

Forgive me what these lips will wrought
though now's no time for regret
my darling once this verse is over
you'll rue the day we met.