sonnet one of one

A vision of beauty, coolness, and grace;

Wafting like a leaf in an autumn breeze;

With golden-wheat hair embracing her face;

A voice melodic, reciting with ease.

Standing before me, the girl of my dreams;

I expound with poetry how I feel;

In a deep sub-conscious torrential stream;

I approached her hoping her heart to steal.

I asked if this weekend, she would be free;

She swore on her credit card, all it’s worth;

A date, she would not consider with me

Be it so, I were the last man on earth.

Be it true, I were the last of my kind

I would not, dear girl, allow you in line.

The End

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