By Laura - lshipley@freewweb.com
Date: 9 July 2000
Sweetpea
I call him my Sweetpea
He must wonder why
He's not small
a man of good size
He's not green
but sometimes a child
He's not sugary
more salty, I think
He is my Dear One,
My Darling, my Love
His voice
His laugh
His scent
His eyes
In his presence I am forever young
and hopelessly in love
I dream of girlish things
like wedding bells
and blushing roses
and a gown as white as angels wings
I wonder if he'll ever ask me...
When I am an old woman,
my memory full of years,
I will still think of him
as the love of my life
and I will still call him
my Sweetpea.
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