To a girl on Facebook I said, “My dear,”
My dear Love not understanding very clear.
“So, we are both your dears? Which one will you shoot?”
I shoot only you, play you alone my flute.
“So, you want me to die, and off with her to go?”
My arrow of love shoots softly, like—so.
“Oh why, my dearest love, does jealousy weep?”
To my four year old niece I said, “My dear, go to sleep.”