Carry me in your purse
To heal me, for you are my nurse.
Not all sickness are from the heart
Some from thou art:
See, tis love
Or this flying dove.
Can’t you see,the young with the old
Don’t let me catch the cold
There is a catch for I am the bold
Tighten the catch of your purse for you are now told.
Make no prison
You have risen.
From the bottom of my heart
To the top of my bart.
The lips
So elipse.
Kiss me,
Be free.
See.
C.