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Altar To Leslie
by
Brent Fuller
My Valentine, for me would sing Old-fashioned, gleaming praise. Lover as no
other She casts scorn at Love’s delays. Singing, she will hearten me to Kiss her
precious face, Fond replies my loving glance The catcher of her grace. Her
constancy of ripening Makes simple raw my slave. Golden Girl of twistery
Unraveling this knave. Appreciates her splendor now Doth each of her
acquaintance. I share cart wheeling trust And How. It's etched in our
engagement. If others also tribute her (Without some lust impeding), I’ll
applaud, Acknowledging Affirming is believing. I will suffer not some dank
Retelling of her failing. Echoes will forever case The favor of her bearing.
Brent Fuller
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