The Poor Romantic
She is as the rain that fell from the sky
leaving the Earth and I much better for it
Her words became the seeds that sowed a better man
Her scent distinct, as are her ways and they slay me
Cannot imagine life without the one that makes me
a poor romantic
Thoughts spell her name upon my heart
as my mind etches it
Sighs shall grow in numbers this day, as absence
becomes apparent and the need becomes much hunger
Though pauper in life and my words are far from
treasure, I shall offer the best of me
For I am but a poor romantic,
as my empty pockets would concur
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