You are poetry that lasts.
Not a horse, running,
Poetry in motion.
Or Shakespeare,
Poetry in (Stratford upon) Avon.
Poetry I can feel,
Still, in a dance.
You are the place
Where all the time went,
And all the lines came hence!
Under eyes and through
Names made and
Empires lost.
Love’s the game,
Ne’ermind the cost!
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