Ode to the Pocket


It does not matter how I toil,
he speaks and thus my heart despoiled.
All other loves cast off like moil,
with just a glance my struggle foil.
Reaching out I can't recoil.
Though my life be in turmoil,
his grip on me I won't uncoil.
If his passion doth me roil
I ask myself who did embroil
this love affair with Raymond Doyle
and know our love shall never spoil.

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