A poem about love of a poet
My heart has been stolen by a poet,
I will not deny or contest it,
For why do we own harts?
If not for the braking and giving?
He turns the day to a sonnet
And stills my lips with his
Love and embraces.
May my traitorous heart be stilled all so,
For it strays by day and weeks.
Yet my poet's words lead me home.
Alas, for the love of a poet
For a poets heart will never be mine.