The Dimple
E
Ernestine Northover
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Pure and simple,
That delightful dimple,
There, on your cheek,
It makes me weak.
My knees give way,
And then I sway,
All strength is gone
When I look upon
Your dimpled face.
It makes my heart race.
Then when you smile,
You so beguile,
So what can I do,
But fall for you.
© Ernestine Northover
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