I don't suppose it's proper,
Or permissable, and I'm not sure
That you wouldn't hold it against me
I'm flippant true, truant often,
and I'm sorry.
But the truth of the matter is
Though it's been nearly a year,
And time flies and memories fade,
I still miss you, lady writer.
I think it's silly, this heartset, the way
My sails have been tied in sailor's knots
(Who can untie a sailor's knot)
But I don't regret it.
This picture just won't fade,
The way your hair falls down
Around your face.
