i place the words in a line.
wooden blocks
and daisy petals
form the perfect train.
the wisps crowd the countenance.
to bring into seclusion
the quickly growing doubt..
with a bash of your hand
could you cast it away.
but only with the angle of the sun.
a love of love is above all
a dangerous infatuation.
could i but climb into your mind
pull apart the petals of the brain
and peruse your many thoughts
could i but fully comprehend
the nature of these circumstances
the depth of your affection--
i could poison the fast growing doubt
that plagues my weeping heart.
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