Sonnet 13

October 17, 2011
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Take me to the gardens of the world
And sweep me off my feet with shaky hands
Fear not, for this is new and unfurled
We’ll head out to see these uncharted lands
Let’s picnic with the best of them tonight
For chivalry is dying with them all
Cliché is overdone by candle light
And we’re perhaps, the most clichéd to call
But this is unexplored, so there’s excuse
That we should make whatever this is grow
Through whispers with the voice, raspy, from no use
Whatever words just come to mind and flow
For it’s that stubborn person I adore
Though I never know what there is in store.





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