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In Concession
Longing for a heart,
to throw a love poem at
caring not, the words used
staggering with thoughts
confounded bliss
swaying in the tallest grass
But I find nothing
no secret smiles
whispers escape me
sentences hung with clichés
crumpled despair
I am no Shakespeare
nor dreaming lover,
But arise!
I shall throw ink to paper
never mind it sticking
I'll pen a sonnet
a ballad
an elegy
a legend!
Indeed I concede
my words to scrolls
an honor for the dust
splashing words
for a never met romance
read once-upon-a-time
and captured,
a poets affair.
And mayhap
leaving you to the winds
I'll confide it to the gods.
poem
by
Sven Coop
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