O’er The Cliff

Our paths, they do not cross,
But meet and bump into—A single path
That’s made of me and you!
And now, together, dear,
We down our love-way steer,
Four hands on wheel one,
With sideways tugs for fun,
As o’er the cliff we go
(Which all true lovers know)
To land on cloud divine
(So soft, it’s number nine!)
Where, both ourselves to bless,
We sail in happiness!

Oh, is this poem now through?
No, but words no longer do!

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