Something That Grows

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When asked from her what love of mine do mean,
I answered betraying not to my heart;
That love of mine was once a petty bean,
So small in size, not like those flames at start.

For when in others, love by chance be formed,
It starts in form of flames, infernal blaze;
Love at first sight, not being well informed,
Their hearts be fuel, for love's fiery blast to raze.

In time their fuel sure will run out of gas;
And then those flames of love will quickly cease,
Despite how big and bright, be those flames' mass,
No use it has when it dies in first phase.

But when their fire, in time from hearts die out,
My bean of love will grow to leafy sprout.

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