A Maple - Poem by Liza Sud
You are leading me from God.
everyday in a hallway catch.
By our window a maple is growing
and its trunk is wet in the morning.
and in you is my main purporse,
as the end of birth is in a foliage
trembling always are maple leaves, -
thus my speach incoherent is.
I cannot buy you, nor simply take,
and your marriage I cannot break.
that's why hear I'll simply die
out of desire and love.
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