MORE TIME PLEASE

More time! More time!
The poet cried
I need the poem today
For when I’ve emptied clear
my mind,
I’ll find new things to say.

But let me speak
Of one with whom
My time is spent instead
For even in an orange room
We’ll cuddle up in bed.

For poems are poems
And love is love
And both I think sublime.
They definitely are
Worthy of,
More time! More time! More time!

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