Poetry

If you must love me, love with your true heart
That feels my fair joy for the azure sky
Of sapphire fire and the depth of dare part,
The wild wonders and secret stars I pry.
 
If you must love me, love with your soft soul,
And tolerate my blue over the road
Of pebbles, puddles, misplaying the role,
That crippled me from my free-will bestowed.
 
If you must, love me with your keen heart beat
That quiet for every day’s pump and pulse,
And love freely as you hold my cold feet
Into your bosom for winter repulse.
 
Let love be pure as celestial's pious faith,
And love me long as these words have their wraith.