they laugh, beam, play, bloom under the setting
sun. oh, such a close to a day lost to 
romping through the meadow and forest green,
bursting with merry life like them. i do
relive that dream again, much joy, i see
their eyes piercing yet warmer than fire,
hair soft like flowers pressed in spring by thee, 
when i was the only thing they desire,
and our arms wrapped ‘round each other tight.
to see you is to feel again. alas,
i miss thee more than diana’s moon bright 
but through her quickly passing rounds, remain
i will steadfast to thee, my love, and soon
we shall meet again at lovely high noon.

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