A Fool’s Mistake Derric Saville March 1983 You lie in ambush of me, but I blindly walk on past, You vainly

try to snare thee, a wanton caress at last. If the trap was seen by me, and I chose to walk on by, Then I’d understand, you see where you’d like to say good-bye. My head was weary and my eyes were weak, for I needed to find the meaning, before I chose to speak, Nix am I on thinking. I am but a novice, at the game of courting bliss, I should’ve walked you to the door, and given you a kiss!

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