To write your fictioned name of Korla, dear,
While in my mind I hold your real name near,
Is not an easy thing to do, for you,
At every turning of my thought, are you,
And your dear name is every part of me.
And yet, if I may write of beauty free,
And sing the praises of my cellist true,
Then I’ll invest this Korla through and through
With all the joy of life that lives in you.
So shall she at your perfect mirror stand
To brush away her hair with your fair hand,
A hand that plays our music lit by thee,
Who strings the soul that soars from you through she,
Which dwells a deep low bass inside of me.

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