My Poetry. Make it easy on Yourself.

The embers are glowing on the open log fire,
But still you must work when you long to retire;
The wind whistles mournfully on the old church spire,
Your ambitions are grand, but my needs are so dire.

The leaves are now falling from the beautiful tree,
The sweet summer flowers are missing the busy bee;
The winds are now howling in a sharp, cold spree,
You are coming home soon, to be here with me.

The meal is ready, so please sit down and rest,
And finally take off that dark, solemn frown.
You may briefly sink in the water, but you will not drown—
We'll toast the King and his well-fitted crown.

The day may be long, but the night feels like forever;
You may doubt your own worth, but I know you are clever.
When you are ready to leave, or it may be whenever,
Your mind is intact, though some wish it to sever.

The grass is always green, but is it on the other side?
You want to apologize, but you still think of your pride.
You are standing on a cliff edge, about to subside—
I love you, my dear, will you finally be my bride?

I want you to be happy, there is no other way,
Awake from this slumber and face a bright new day.
Your precious opinion is something no one can sway—
Is your resolve made of concrete, or merely of clay?