I was born with a morose luck.
Awnings of my eyelids contain it,
Meaning to contain the deluge.
Love me not with anything restricting you,
Onto my future, you should move,
Not carrying the baggage of your past,
Genteel breezes of your breath, me they heal,
Into the future you must step with me,
Not worrying about negative things,
Guest you be mine and just accompany me.
Few to wait are more years,
Over the long and lanky,
Rosy and sunny days.
Yes, only your love saves me,
On the days of loneliness,
Under the wicked sky,
Rugged are otherwise my feelings.
Lost in the past is my sweetheart,
Ostensible is my love for you,
Veering away from it you are,
Expecting I am this exclusivity.
I am longing for your love
My HP Poem #1704