Italian Rue Leaf

To tell you, my love
what I could tell you only in meanderings
Quiet, lukewarm
to protect from your beauty
To tell you, painter of tribal stains
Singer to the earth and its offspring
Eater of berries and
drinker of fine wine
To tell you that, of all you have met,
none will love you as I
For it is I who
for you
would give anything to





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