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Saga of Swain And Coquette (1)

Time and again our paths bisect,
for you are neighbour next door,
occurred to be a women of intellect.
And I a swain from obscure moor.

Every time we greet, our eyes meet,
wish I can tell you all my thoughts.
Now I scribe on a sheet in night sweet,
of your beautiful busty buxom delights

My visions belittling choice words chosen,
to portray, mesmerizing, marvelous, you.
Wonder if all words in English, lessen
grandeur, gorgeous, graceful thou

Every time I gaze your eyes colorcast,
begins presage as I start to realize,
omen not subtle, no not in the least,
devours me whole, face cast in daze.

Is it modest love? Is it vulgar lust?
Heed, mistake in here, kindred raze;
Wasted time, did not decide as I must;
The poser need more time to decode this maze.
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