Mine own silence wast deem’d as a killeth’r
F’r thee bethought I wast b’red,
But haven’t thee bethought yond
I harkened intently
Whenev’r thou art so engross’d
On telling thy tales of l’re?
I nev’r once consid’r’d thee a b’re.
These snippets of inf’rmations
Art something I would liketh to rememb’r
So I carefully st’r’d t in mine own headeth,
Craving f’r thee to tell me m’re
Rath’r than f’rgetting t altogeth’r
Then competeth f’r who can conv’rse m’re.
I can only desire thee und’rstand
Yond mine own silence dost not signify I’m b’red,
Mine own loveth, I strongly impl’re.
F’r t pains me to knoweth
Yond I did hurt thee
By being comf’rtable in silence
And in being int’rest’d in the bygones.