Behold upon the sea-foam colored floor,

As sheafs of paper leaf down from above

An inky shadow races through the door

To rain upon the paper licks of love.

She leaps and frolicks in among the drift

Of crisp white envelopes and colored trash;

For her, these piles, and unintended gift

From me, that she might tear, may rip and slash.

Even if I wished to end her play,

Her mournful visage in my mind would move

Me, ‘til my feelings – hard and rigid – sway,

And I refrain from trying to reprove.



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