In Spring Another Fall

An old poem this one, written one full month ago (give or take a few days):

Give in.

Give up.

Let me win

That trivial game.

Let it end

And not be the same.

For I know now to hope

Is to but temp ill luck.

Yes, you've won the other,

And this spring

 I tally up in falls, another.

So now my kite, cut

I must somehow recover.

No ifs, or a but

No reasons to discover.

For

I take my defeat

Quietly,

And Shall utter not a word

Nor make a sound

Except the scratching of the pen,

A thoughts to paper are bound.

Perhaps follow up with

 The tapping of keys
Beseeching you, my dear, please

Give in, let me win
Let it end

For any further without breaking

I cannot bend.