石基連詩集
by Raymonde Sacklyn
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My Beloved
Had
I the will
My heart to still
On this day,
What would I say
To you, my love?
You, whose very being
Stirs my waking hours
And, like that gentle summer's breeze
Rocks the highest bowers
In the tallest trees,
Dislodging fruit to fall,
Gently to earth
Where arms caress
And bless you for being:
My BELOVED.
