Lenore Poem by Ernest Hazvi Maengamhuru

When the man overlooks your loathing,
and talks about anything and nothing,
he hesitates, he says but a few.

When he shares every word
except what pierces his heart, a sword;
he awaits to get his due.

When you dropp your guard,
and withhold not your heart, untamed and hard,
then you know that he loves you.

If he calls you again at night,
badly to seek respite;
now you know that he loves you.

He sits to write, comfort to find
And he realizes it’s you on his mind,
And the fiery dream is as good as new.