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The nymph steals the farm-son (Sonnet) by <~>

Before I captured you, you sought meat and bread and peace. My turnings bade you cease seeking solitude that old life brought. I swept the earth stippling stubble in grooves and chains of dance; moved your heart to gambol, stole you from your ramble, melted you, stubborn man. You spied my moves and judged my worth, left behind hoe and plow and dwell with me, now.

<~> 19-Oct-05/10:40 AM
november is cold, but decmber is colder still, is what i was going for. there are also the holidays to consider, although that analogy is very abstruse.

and yes, i am lathing into firewood. i wonder if my love is wasted on him.

thank you for the compliment.




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