A conversation on your departure.


"Oh dearest, my sweetest!

You must tell me now,

What causes the furrows

A-rest on your brow?"

And I say, "I prithee our time do meet soon,

To the time when forget-me-nots bloom,

So that I may pick one for the morrow,

Only to save one for the noon...

I'd even give up slaying princesses-

Befriending dragons, (though absurd!)

All the stardust I could hold.

Every siren song unheard".


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