Your smile recalls fond memories of strolls,
Of hands so soft as feathers in a nest,
Of waves we watched, of surf that gently rolls,
While songbirds din from not so distant crest;
As night descends to tuck the world below,
And tried to send us home by usual means,
Nary we moved a skinny inch to go,
As still your head upon my shoulder leans;
For in the name of love we oft commit,
Crime, if not valor, or those acts between,
To grand tribunals might our deeds submit,
And yet we stand as wise, or fools had been;
.....It is my fault that haunts me till today,
.....If I'm a thinker or a dreamer be.
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