Four Point Eight: Limerence
He's now the color the dawn wears for me to behold each morning
no matter how bland and monotonous is the rising
He's the serenading hello conveyed by the birds' early lilt
when I'm amongst limping creature bound to wilt
He fills up the cup of my luscious refreshment-
a dose to quench me with merriment
He's that perking mood to start my day
and a pause to breathe fine in the middle of a fray
I know nothing beyond his name
and he's another bright portrait I cannot claim
I'd like for him to not just be a tempting limerence
that this may never be a departing sentence...
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