Of her

Of her I could only but dream
invent moments with my imagination
In them she was so larger than life
not just an object of my fascination

In my reveries took so many walks
tenderly held her slender hand in mine
merely content to bask in her warmth
so very oblivious to the passage of time

Ah, dreams can such tyrants be
to vanish at the brink of dawn
at night they tantalize you so
in the morning savagely left alone

The End

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