***
One more, not great not wide,
Maybe a little wild,
But not a drop of weird —
A question, which can’t hide;
Which wakes me every night,
And goes to me and fight,
And makes me sick and blind —
A thing, which is not right.
You see, it seems so well,
But I can’t even tell,
Because it’s hard to choose
Those words and not to loose…
I’m trying now, again.
Just answer — will I gain?
That’s hard to ask, you see,
A question “D’you love me?”