DON'T
ask me for my hand again
while your's are
stained with ink and the lies
issuing from your mouth
spark the passion not DON'T
ask me for my hand
again until you
can bring my passion
from the depths of white lace
and organza from the shadows
of my veil to fuel your fire
fully not among the dusty
shadows but here
in the morning sun
and the july moon.
rendered by poetess
copyright 1999
by the author
anonymous
