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Every schoolkid was once familiar with Elizabeth Barrett Browning’s Sonnets from the Portugese No. 43
“How do I love thee…”
It’s a great poem alright, can’t better that.
Yet with youthful insolence (or was it insouciance?), I used her words as a stepping out point:

I do not love thee,
for there is more,
I arch like a rainbow,
I glow with glory,
I burn like a furnace,
I tremble with power,
I hold out my heart to you,
my beloved, I adore.

Two years later (1972) aged 19, despite the hopelessness of my love quest, I wrote this:

Driving on a rainy night

If I were to speak to you now,
two stars, two crosses bright upon the windscreen,
would you hear my voice.
(Others flash by)
Could words sufficient be called to express,
would you hear this one, first, last,
confession of mine?
You are the axis
You are the motion,
This rain glistened highway is
Your radius, my devotion.

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