To Neen - Aah
Perhaps too much in the sun the flower
Of your love is withering, or maybe
It is the roots rotting since the shower
Is too much. Perhaps it is the tree
I need to trim; and since I am all these
Perhaps it's I that must my presence
Take to the lonely wilderness and wait. Let
Me suffer all the anguish, but not sense
Unhappiness in your countenance; regret
In your desire. I cannot shine or rain
Or grow with the world that now is you.
If I was to be banished from your terrain,
I could live my unhappy years just knowing
That you live; that hope makes life a blessing.
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