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Altar To Leslie


Brent Fuller

My Valentine, for me would sing Old-fashioned, gleaming praise. Lover as no other She casts scorn at Loveís 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), Iíll 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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