By Rennie Lorca
Date: 28 March 1998

CONTEMPLATION

Maybe My Heart's Pall . . .

My heart, as yet, you see unstained,
I come to love so new.
Tell me, what can be gained,
To seek a love with you?

I have seen great poets suffer,
Authors never get their due.
Fools might think things differently,
Even pure and white make stains, too.


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