Love poems may be tedious for others, but have so much meaning for the ones involved.
Another old phrase
Another new sentence
Another full paragraph
Another complete conception.
I sit here at home,
And write out my heart:
It hurts not to be near Amy’s mother.
I’d much rather roam,
Though never depart,
Just to talk to someone or another.
I love you, dear,
And when you’re near,
I feel at ease in my mind.
But when you’re gone,
I seem to long
To discover and to find.
But in the end of all good things,
Which happens when we die,
I want to be the one who sings
And floats and soars and flies.
Be with me, Sue,
Please love me, true,
And help me to
I want to be
Just what you see
And try to free
The soul in me.
But what good can all these thoughts
Do for those who cannot read them?
If I were to say more than what I’ve written,
Those who should listen would never heed them.
Another complete conception (is still not enough to say)
Another full paragraph (still gets in the way)
Another new sentence (yet we may)
Another old phrase (play)