I mourn the dead too often in the sun
And stare the rays as tho' it were a death
Not mine, nor yours, but till my all feels none
And what I give in thought, is lost in breath.
That air does brush the pain, yet not improve
As in that breeze so travels ends to means
With whispers hounding of a timeless move
That ever in a time - now timeless scenes.
I dwell in dreams that were, tho' never won
And offer plainly a discourse to tell
That I, gave them no chance, not even one
To grow inside a mind that grows as well.

To that of mine, no claim bequeaths my will
Let I as dust just sit, on widow's sill.

The laziest of eyes cannot miss you
You do not know that fair were meant for sight
For sight is blindness if he never knew
That beauty yours exist in beauties' plight;
To meet the eye and then be worshipped so
Then he of passing eyes who seeks the one,
And who does wonder none and waits your show;
Deserves your beauty when each morn has won.
Let I purpose you are the fairest fair
The form my sight does see when even closed
My eyelids know you well and draw you there
And have your stunning gaze on me so posed;

If this you know, then beauty needs me not
For you're my eyes, the rest are left forgot.

If love does rule the heart, then love's cruel,
Unhappy masters, whom do give to reap;
At play with players bound to loves' duel
But is love none if not to end in weep?
If all must die, then love's a mortal game
And subject then to laws of ash or dust,
Or give this king a lesser kingdom name
Diminished of the land that hearts entrust.
No! Love is life, to bittersweet the death
And followed blind despite the hewn of scythe
And uttered as it were the lasting breath
As tho' to love, is then to carry with.

Love is to live as tho' it weren't to die
But love there none, then one has lived to lie.

O' where does every rose go when it dies?
As love's a rose, and idleness does rot;
Then roses wither down to dusty guise -
With every thorn and every prickly dot.
Yet is to love, to grow a petal leaf?
That if befalls, the stem of love withhold,
Then love for one is what does die of grief
And limbs left mourn, to bleed for love of old.
Are we of blessed bodies with a rose -
That mends the bleeding limb and loves again?
Again, again til time does then repose -
The flow of love, then rose to dust; is then.

Tho' care upon this flower near the core;
If bled to dry, then love has loved no - more.

As she and I do lay 'neath summer's noon
I quarrel with the sun; who loves her more?
For you do shine her glow, rename her June
That she does wear as sunlight ever wore.
Her ocean eyes turn rays to aqua blue
That she so welcomed them does aid your cause,
And tease in mine my mortal self and you
That struck her beauty so, my chest does pause.
And think that you; the purest, loves by day,
But I with extra eye have doubled sight,
To gift her twice the worship you relay
And thrice more when the lover's love by night.

O' sun, good friend, I fear I have you beat!
Tho' had that glow, me very near defeat.

I wonder if you know I love you so;
As vast that you can dream, as real as touch,
As swiftly sweet as springtime breeze can blow
And many greens they brush, yes love that much.
Above where skies can't reach and stars there shine
As deep in earth where meets the other side,
As rare as Mars and Venus would combine -
A perfect sphere where love upon there ride.
Aloud as tho' if all the birds would sing
The song my love and only heart does know,
Then long you'd hear, and still not ev'rything;
My love renews as oft that breath does flow.

If I there be to where your eyes can't see
That write of love herein is this here me.

I know of beauty in the need of praise
For her own view of self does view defect
And cannot dream that eyes adore her glaze,
That needn't the sun nor light to gift effect.
The social sites appear to worsen her;
Perfection shown does taunt the blemished seen
Her radiance a - glow then turns to blur,
Until that youth becomes what has then been.
Tho' shyness plagues me, ink from mine can't shy
If she this sonnet read, rewrites her eyes,
Then she to her own beauty can't deny,
And I, her sonneteer maintain disguise.

Tho' if nearby she reads from this aloud
Then may just may, she'll glance me out a cloud.