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Sonnet

If for an hour you do not fill my mind,

I count the minutes wasted and am sad.

This store of love for you I choose to find,

In light of your disdain hath made me mad.

For though my hopes remain earthbound and frail,

And never can on gentle wings take flight.

I fear my tissued dreams are marked to fail,

Yet long for you to turn to me each night.

Because your heart rests in another place,

Bound tight by fondest vows forever true.

Each morn I press your likeness to my face,

And will the day brings forth fresh news from you.

This love I forge reminds me that I live,

A constant proof of all I have to give.

 

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