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Gallant Stranger

 

Who is it that sits

at my door?

Is it you,

or just my imagination?

 

Tall

slender

good

looking

gender.

 

Moving me to surrender,

stirring my emotions

like a potion,

which I am forced

to drink.

 

To my death,

or life.

 

Who is it that

knocks at my door?

Enclosed for years,

decades.

locked,

bolted,

with a ‘No entry’

sign.

 

Such bravery,

Such gallantry!

With no fear of what

lies behind.

Finding a distressed

damsel longing,

waiting to encapsulated

in your arms,

embraced,

kissed,

touch

and rock to sleep

in your love.

 

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