flowed hell-bent through these veins,
Or Emily's touch on fingertips
could fondly trace your name.
For lines that echo tempered thoughts
when forged by calloused hands
do not express the urgency
by which my meaning stands.
Within this grist of wheat and chaff
I mill no holly-tree.*
I have no Drummond's sentiment,
No torn soliloquy.
And so on this poetic day
no pen can etch through stone
that can express in simple verse
the friendship you have shown.
Another birthday poem
What Is Mariza? by Aesthete2000


I know Mari must love it. You two are so very fortunate to share such a beautiful friendship 
Dee













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