Saturday, February 5, 2011

May it be it love

That which I feel whenever I steal a glance at you

The colour of which like a snow-white dove

If it were fruit, mangoes she would be

That which lulls when I think over it

May it be love

May they rock

Those goods you have in store for me

Let them not suck

For that is what I seek of thee

You I will follow like wind the airport sock

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