Untitled Sonnet (4)
To A.A.
With all my passion, love and hate,
With pain the heart can hardly bear
I can confess. But I aware
It is not, must not be too late,
Because a friendship to create
Is not a subject to declare.
We still have time and breathing air,
Give me a chance, my dear mate!
Between us was not all at ease,
You did not like me very much.
And I not always find could
The proper words. Forgive me these.
Discouragement it was as such,
That I ignorance yours withstood.
28.08.07
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