Certainly behind wooded planks and appointed time.
Shaded glasses never have I worn when in thy presence.
Hand in hand never captured a spring scented essence.
Moonlight’s beauty seems to fade from overwhelming glances.
Such beauty like Love becomes colorless from helpless chances.
A needy Love asks to borrow thy love forever.
Only response from crickets makes Love’s cheeks rosy from fever.
Bent at moonlight, Love’s best known friend, drops of sorrow pour, pour, pour, into the pond.
A pond friend to many Loves’ that have visited a time once past.
Suddenly moonlight’s beauty shines once more, Love feels love at last.

Can I borrow thee forever?

Love should not have to ask for thee. A sudden drop of clever.
Many Loves’ have visited this pond and yet none are present.
Love should not wade on thee like an informal peasant.
Love is strong and desires a sunny morning with daisies, tulips, and roses.
Love will stand from helpless teary poses.

“Can I borrow thee forever?” Love bids thee fair well.