love me , love me not

The best month of the year is the one your in When loves delicate emphasis toucheth the skin. Love know not the season nor the day, Wether captured in December or in May. The range of your sweet emotion Has rattled me into all commotion. May this heady delight not be an imposter For i can not afford to harbour or foster A part love , a halfshare Of something , that is not there.