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heartburn poet

The poet with the burning heart
wrote words of lime….just not so tart
Some say the ‘finer’s flame was close
but through dark smoke gold drops arose

And if that rose were frozen still
we’d lick spoonfuls to whet our will
we’d grow drunk on each other’s breath
fight all our fears by beating death

Passion, pass not this poet by
but place a palace in his eye
one where his love can flee with him
wear robes of silk and diadem

When they can’t die a thousand years
can’t hear songs dim to loving ears
their movements and their thoughts are one
these gold drops burn like fire of sun

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