Sonnet 717

The hours spent on rhyme

Setting words in place

Daydreaming of that face

Would seem to most a crime

An unuseful waste of time

But within her sacred space

In presence of such grace

I nearly lose my mind

Thinking of how lips would taste

Imagining the loving stare

Whispers expressing words so kind

Gently wrapped around her waist

Caught up in a world of care

Something lost I seek to find

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