To whom would rush the wounds of love with love;
Let take a caution deep where your wound bleeds;
Perfuse the stream, the flow is flow's behove
To love is not 'in love' without its deeds.
The void will drain without another grief
Why two to bore when one is plentiful
And portioned love deceives and all to brief
So reason then to heal and heal there full.
But time has half a doctorate of pain
The tested friend is patience met with heart,
And he or she with both is lover's gain;
To love as freshest as the springtime start.

So tender yours beneath that lover's rain
Then out the colored bow! And love's again.

When I behold the furthest shooting star
I wonder then; if best this heart be too
and beat beyond, where time and love are far
and leaves behind the maze, some lover drew.

Then I imagine space, as void of pain
and place my racing star on course to there,
that swiftly 'rived would heal as fast that came
dispose then back; into the Venus' lair.

Tho' love if idle long, is worse to reign;
what kingdom rules a chest without a heart.
Then take from love, is too that grief shall gain,
no shooting star could render this apart.

Tho' take mine briefly where no scar is known
But have then back; to grieve in lovers' own.

You left the fog that took your heart from us:
We linger there within your numbers left;
To add, subtract in all to equal thus;
Your eight and twenty-four's are now bereft.
Our sorrow pleas that you could play once more!
Perhaps there's golden baskets where you are
There by your baby as you were before;
And each by turn would sparkle in a star!
The clouds conceal your form but not your praise
But take you into fame of higher realms:
A mentorship for greatness and its ways,
Yet now forgive; our sadness overwhelms:

And mourner's mourn where yours and Gigis keep
Tho' graves unmarked, let markings be our weep!

Take all my blood in need 'till i'm asleep
That I may linger where you live in me,
And tho' you hide there well and bide as deep
Again your fairest sight would I then be.
You first arrived as swift as you had left
And I took you to stay; as dawn to light
Yet from my skin and then my skin's bereft
To mourn a love that held my better sight.
Reunion of a kind, as that proposed,
Would have deceived the years that had you lost?
Denying time when time had you reposed,
And all I made dissolved and none accost.

No! Keep concealed my sprouted, golden years
As now I love you more as age appears.

Tho' I do write with truth, my self's conceived -
That where your love abodes, resides just me.
My love in rhyme, is rhyme in part deceived
Do, I linger still or let this sonnet free?
The former is a rhythmic dance of words
Where A can't wait the love connect of C.
The latter brings the sorrow near the thirds
As each unstressed, would stress the pain to be.
I pass this ninth with syllable delay
The tenth, I love but yearns a love as true.
I burden here, where eyes of yours can't sway
Yes now, at last, do I withdraw from you.

I hope the other grows to love as I
But doubt that heart the will of heart to die.

Should I repose your memory about
The darker regions you have never been
Where even I don't dwell nor cast a doubt
For once condemned, remains in there unseen.
Then if I left you deep in nothing -space
The memoirs bound to love could not recall,
And leave me loveless so you had no face,
Proceeding mind, as tho' you weren't at all.
But I have need to summon you at will;
As since no fairer comfort then arrive
And then behest you hold what has you still
Whilst lives a mind that each our past derive.

Remember you! I shall with reels as true
Although it have believe, I still have you.

I fear not death, but death without rebirth
For how'll I'll doubly miss the southern spring;
The flowers past and future petal'd earth
Would sprout in distant plays of everything.
If far from view, then even worse a - fate,
As I without a touch will too not see;
The blossoms of my land and gentled mate;
For she does loves the spring as beauty; she.
Tho' be with heaven's angel's, high and sweet
Without my love and spring I'd barely breathe;
In yearn for her below and petal's treat,
Then best let I just lay with dirt my sheathe.

But wake me into light when she too passed
For into heaven, she'll bring spring to last.

O' take me off the deathly scribe! For now;
My heart does bid his bones to draw me not.
For mine new love could not neath stone, allow.
Yet pure to still relive past breath, than rot.
No grimmer fate than crawling dirt to sire
As meant for fair and sweet, not feast to dust.
Tho' laws of ashes still bids me to mire
Extend this time, then I will sleep that crust.
To reap one's source, then must have inner sight!
Then known this pith of mine; which rules my core,
Recall then death to when you lived such light
Then sure as all who lay; you'll wave me more!

O' rid me not to soil when love's too soon
May scythe withhold for love, and then let hewn.

It does appear to me that souls deceased
Whom passed by cancer's deadly spread of mole.
Are gifted special ride to heaven's priest
By shooting stars, to thrill their final roll.
From times of old when they did stare the stars
And ponder; may their time outshine their death.
But bodies virus'd, freckled with their scars
Then idle nothingness with loss of breath.
Whom suffer, fitting that a star it be.
And I do too in wonder when above
If there will be a star awaiting me,
And glance back down, good bye'ng those I love.

It seems that more of shooting stars fly by
How sad it is; how oft we glance the sky.

I don't deny; love in heart is life's force
For procreation how we need love more:
Would solve with love how hate does cause divorce
Between own mind and lover's loving core.
Is just then one to love their self alone
To spend their days that selfishness revolves
And hermit nor hermess need none atone
Before their own and lover's sin devolves.
Let here from my experience so lend:
At first does single-hood live single's dream
But love still loves in shadows love does send
'Till even they have taken voice to scream:

And call upon your lonesomeness apart
Than what in love revives within your heart!

When I do pause, reliving love's laments;
As I am now in drenched within the guilt;
That every morn', the morning sun presents -
With open eye, I sighted all will wilt;
As glory's rays foresaw our lover's end
And even when her gaze did steal the shine;
My fears did bathe in worst my burn could lend;
To death me in a time, when she's not mine.
Yet now when years become that fearful truth;
That golden star glowed brighter than my cloud
And if by magic send my skin to youth:
Then love will cherish love as love's aloud

Regrets do taunt the saintly love of old
If only saint it were, when love weren't cold.

My Lady is the moon upon my night;
As black is far less black around her eye,
If opal's sun gives life with better light;
Then grace to her bestows that magic dye.
I have seen moons, tho' quarter, half than full
And sooner do the clouds retake their shine,
But no celestial star has brightest pull
Around the darkest core, as lady mine.
Yet I well know such glow, deserves that glow;
Returned by barter lover from nearer star,
But he in need, as I do need her so
Do render her the only orb by far.

As begging eyes do give the moon it's fame
And worship holds there greater than the same.

I wonder whom will take me when I die?
No angel could see worth of me to greet;
My spirit's patched with shadows of the lie
That angel here received, but yet they'd meet.

Should temptation forbid me near that that throne
Then I shall darken 'neath their counter force,
If chance to claim whilst I'm to not their own;
Exempt me for 'twas her did differ course.

For if to not with her, one's ***** do just
As all who need, and needs in all do act,
Condemn myself and yours will fill to bust.
But! Charge me that strayed meet's, were that of tact;

Then I'd concede no love did pass to those.
And if the player of those hearts be ******
This soul and soulful will will not oppose
And go there full as tho' by soul programmed.

For love of one were that; my chest - beat's stead
If hell upholds this truth, then there be dead!

Misfortune's frowned at me with great disdain
and wrought the winter's frost for further quest;
to coat unseen - the stone on love's remain,
hence I in mind exhume what grief depressed.

Her grave's unjust to meet what beauty's owed,
no roman style exalts her fairest youth
if scholars old had glimpsed what grace she showed;
her tombstone would inscribe a closer truth.

That somber mason, near the date she passed
had failed to scribe my death of love to be;
for too below the ice, in urn - like cast
still bleeds of mourn, the lover's pith of me.

Upon reflection, snow has troubled none
I need no stone, when I'm already one.

When all my dreams are lively dreams no more,
And dirt, my winter blanket covers me;
To join as dust eternal time has store;
The fate of fates does destine mine to be.
No shine of summer reach below the field
Let barren as the life had lived, now low,
But lest a bed of grass have fresh dirt shield
So none may think me buried six below.
That gentle patter of the autumn winds
Not play the beat this core once drummed ago
When spring did glow before what time recinds,
Leave damp and lonely soil and all it's woe:

That cold; be all my seasons, all of four
If I am not to see you evermore.

It is quite balmy here by the bay
dally I may and sand I play
cuddling and puddling into a grainy muddling,
I fray away - in this, a golden day.

The scorching sky-ball rays bequeath
a vermilion wreath on my bones' sheath
doth it burns and churns yet how lovely the terns
whom glance beneath - ruby-me they seeth.

The Gulls flock in a white lustre
within a cluster paced muster
though in such rank, a gap is manque and in that flank
without fluster - I desire to soar in bluster.

To fly amidst the cloudy haze
in fluffed graze and twilight maize
would release the strain and reign of the pain;
from my darkest daze - into the briny bays.

Let tokens of a lost love seep
into the deep where I canst weep
and remnants of swill be fed to Brill by powering will
as such creatures keep - secrets asleep.

Sea currents drift my melted plume
cleansing a hearted tomb of gloom
of broken Sherds whilst girds the birds
fashioning in loom - as I soak in spume.

In praise to the salt queen I exalt a moan
taking in loan a swig from the throne
she clings and stings but I adore summer flings
returning in prone - the blend with my own.

Stumbling now to a neighbouring dune
I swoon and reflect in boon
that sorrow from Algea I borrow, can wait the morrow
wild wraiths be hewn - by this remedial tune.

How illuminate! This majestic bay
where dreams pray and verily splay
that waves of oceans bring notions of emotions;
from burdens' weigh - one escapes by the bay!

My weary mirror has no fun of late
It's stare is empty, cautious and as dim
As happiness when met in deathly date
What now is me appears into a him,
And he could sadden sad into a smile
In grin of measure wide that his decrease
Within a crept behind the eye of bile
In salt and wound that pains the skin to crease
For each a sullen ridge re-tells a sorrow made
By form as poor as deeply dug it's way
That pleasance birthed with vibrance were to fade
So have us left depressed into decay

What sulken form reflects mine eyes to see
The bitter sight and breathless life of me.

Dear lady I do know, that beauty's cursed:
To draw unwanted eyes to bask that fair
And I proclaim the masses have their worst
With me to draw by pupils, all that rare.
But if she were behind my eyes, she'd see;
A temple to a goddess most revered,
Where marble has such form, and formed by me
And echoes, sweetly tones that love has eared.
Believe it true, the scariest do stare
But one who loves to love, fixates on truth
That all this being is; for love to bear
And grant to beauty's form, an ever youth.

As I do breathe, I breathe to beauty's ode
If she could know, then beauty has bestowed.

Undo the plague your love's befallen men;
By I with love alone to rescue you,
Repenting is but part of mine to when-
Forgiveness is bestowed by them purview:
As then, by heart to heart yourself shall mend;
To love through virtue's gate, that I do love;
But angel I am not nor can I send -
From you, contempt with all contempt thereof,
Immune then I cannot and suffer so;
As sweet is only sweet when sour is known;
And wise do take with love the love to know
The grace that made is often more that's shown:

So leave the hearted trails within our wake
And newer love let born, for lover's sake.

If you don't love me, then, do I love me?
For I within that love do view me whole.
That take your part and lesser mine will be
Then I, my better self, then had you stole.
Let know what you'd remove would love you still
Then you, my love reside and there may die.
Unless you find that time gave greatness will
Presenting back wherein the void does lie.  
But if my love shall perish, me without,
I'm poised for none a better place to death.
For you my love was made, and there I'm out;
Love's breath in hearted air that love had breath.

Deny my love, accept my love, but know
It dies with you, whichever me you go.

If fifty suitors claim their love for you
Of them I'm in, how could you end with me?
At least there five of height that mine outdo
And twice of those in waist cannot be he,
But if returns their one for cuteness sake
Then ten on cuteness scale would fail to meet,
Yet here be sure of mine; my measures make;
Another four less pretties tho' they're sweet;
Depart no less with three for jealousy
And two their friends, by loyalty they leave,
Requests that seven return to prelacy
Whilst eight recall in passing loves they grieve:

Between the last and I, for you to view
But such the love of mine that I be two.

If dreaming paths the way to where you are
Then why has none to you, so taken me?
If love ignites us, why are you then far?
That far, that my imaginings can't see.
Perhaps my silent dreamer cannot bear
To love again, the past that future's burn;
So why in sleep reveal what eyes do stare
And love that loved me so does take no turn.
Ah! Waking moments have within, you here
That need no dream, to dream is to: awake,
Let flowing breaths devote, and you endear,
Then I, your love do keep and you do make.

What state could better render you alive
Than what the mind can hold, and not deprive.

A poet suffers for his art
For they well know their darkest part
With Ink as black, as pain is red
The pages soak, as they have bled.
How deep the chasm of anguished words
So chosen with the thought it girds
A place where one relives the day -
And moments, most do stay away.
They pen for readers whom; have known
The worsened side the heart has shown
That he, or she need not regress
To where the glow of souls is less.
This marriage of a poet's dreams -
To page can be the hearted screams
Thus poets dwell; exhuming scars
For art, for words, least not; the stars.

It is lonely over here
in the corner dim, the bar a-brim
frothing at spill - the suds of swill,
yet I perch still
for neither beer nor cheer; all alone in my sphere,
a shadow - shadowing over here.

Wistfully - I entreat the shore
that tiding sea - swell comfort on me;
briny in spume - cleansing n' bloom
my wreathy loom,
by Poseidons' lore; soak me in bore - that I languish no more
away, away from the lonely shore.

I splay to the moon
let celestial light pierce me a-bright,
that illuminate rain purge the strain
away from this pain,
though sparkle the dune - I mope and swoon the absence of boon
ever still lonely - lonely by the moon.

Dreadfully I grow weary
now in retreat - to an abode of sleet
frigid like the maze pulsing this daze,
my core – it frays,
too numb to be teary, bleak and ill-dreary - at night it is eerie
so - so alone and weary.

A silhouetted stray
internee of mourn, corona unborn
if only I borrow - a longing for the morrow, to slumber this sorrow;
on clouds I pray with seraphs I sway - to hymns of May
dreaming - dream of a silhouetted stray.

The chamber of my heart's cold near the left;
So sickly thickened by her sight with his;
Betraying eyes that smile to my bereft
And stained by redden wine as red there is;
Ungodly as her lipstick beckons both-
And me, through frozen veins an equal cause:
To pierce as they did mine by secret oath;
Then I to self proclaim no mercy's pause:
Befall the cheerful couple to their make!
But wine would bitter still and me repose-
Where bitterness do echo such mistake-
To blame the thorns, I knew did mold the rose,

Then let deceitful love untouched by scorn
As they'll defeat their own when love has worn.

I)

Our precious months have none for charity,
Yet isolation; do by months donate
My waning form, for solidarity;
Absent of sickness, nearer distant fate.
My end seems meek and much less horrible,
Than if your eyes did scorn what time does crease
Upon my skin, less white adorable,
For yours of beauty stilled, mourn my decrease?
No! Worry not, for sweet your sweetheart's eye:
Abundant in immortal glory's stage,
When paired with you no longer I am I
But us! Now five years more, ten gone my age.

Yet that decrease fear covids added
much;
Corona's law: times two without your touch.

(II)

Law bid's my better self from me to part,
Across the sick laid world in viral war,
If wonder where's my best? Let check your heart;
Where all my vibrancy and ferver store,
Albeit are my eyes that make the artist,
And art is love when beauty forms the muse;
Is you that map my beauty true; sweet chartist!
But you had only mapped your own infuse.
When this abundance has your dearests seen;
True mind's deduction knows what bears without;
A kingdom ruled in vigil for a queen;
Steadfast a lesser king, still king devout.

My love - my best you have and best to know:
Pity my least, when most without your glow.

(III)

Oh lovely one, tho' time's unsavory,
Your privilege from it's change and creasing blade;
Deprives from time: decay's own slavery,
From your sweet youth that sweetest form has stayed.
What deity does guard your beauty's jewel?
Whom favored graces do continue more;
In time that sweeter mood will turn to cruel:
An infamy well known from those whom wore.
Ah! When that fearsome wand does show your wear,
Never me fooled; yes grey would hue your white
And happen all the while before my stare;
But love shan't change, nor day appear as night

Nor heart could grey nor love turn older stale'd.
If proved these false; mere proved my pulse had failed.

(IV)

I tend this lockdown'd day in unmade bed,
Then greet the icy morn with bitter brew
But drown in distant news of many dead;
I gasp for foreign lives I never knew.
How near to you! Thus near my sacred stone;
Beholder of my love what love there bears,
If comfort's found beneath your chested bone,
Is mine revealed; a love when all else tears.
Ah! Meager seems my loneliest of lines,
When other loves have costlier of loss,
For ours shall turn when 'rona's force resigns;
Back to our hearted bridge at lover's cross,

But thought the pain if you succumbed the worse
Does think my end by body, soul, in hearse!

(I)

My love would frown, if could, about this stone;
For grey had never pleased her fashioned eye
And Times Old Roman carved for older throne-
Not beauty, youth, no mason knew could die.
Would they, as I, denounce that fair be bones?
Thereby no empty tomb would need a cross,
Engravings spared from eyes of teary loans:
That borrows from a grave's imprint of loss.
But plainly here invokes her name in etch:
Confronting on my dreams that have her live-
As vividly as breath, her beauty's sketch,
Yet sight to stone cannot in death unlive.

Upon then mason grave this line 'neath hers:
'If here resides, then here too mine refers'

(II)

But when I part her grave, part follows me;
Unseen but seen behind my weary lids;
At best when closed does darkness gift her be
Into the light methought that death forbids.
Yet do I mourn with force to self deceive?
Defying state that time shall be my own,
Lest have me too immortal death receive
And dwell between where mind and spirit roam?
No! Gone my love to where all beauty flies!
Where havens still her grace as when had left,
I bound her not to ducts where beauty cries
Tho' I despair by depths at mine bereft.

Goodbye my dear, may essence seize the skies!
But be nearby, when near your body lies.

(III)

That I converse with you on matters new;
That matters old do not befall on you,
Could you forgive if by the winds so blew
A leaf upon my love that grows anew?
Know that they grow to not conceal your mound
Nor dig you deeper than by sorrow dug;
Think no mistake that 'neath my heart's not bound;
But love's bereft have none a better drug.
Yet if by sign out from your spirit's world;
By sparrows, storms, or ominous displayed:
Have by the skies 'alone' the word you hurled
Then shall it be that love is ours replayed.

Should graciousness so follow where you are
Then you would know you're not replaced, by far.

Let he, whom in my kingdom, read here smart:
Your eyeslids best be closed when near my love;
That she is near, is not for gazer's art;
Except for mine that gaze her there above!
But if believe your love has mine outdone
You've narrowed small our friendship's wary lease
And let the rose between the earth and sun
To where your mateship's worth is worth to cease,
Yet if your cause is merely jealous eyed
How can of man be blamed if acts the brand?
For beauty, tho' is taken, yet have shy'd
Then friend that eye have best in you remand!

Make this exception to our friendship's writ:
I side with beauty, yours has yet been lit!

Could none be so more sorry than myself
If he is found then I need lower still;
For beauty's worth in every kind of wealth,
Albeit depths of my remorseful will.
But is her heart of stone; to let me dwell -
Within the limbo of a mercy's curse,
For if I linger long, I'll know too well;
That she had not so read and felt this verse.
No! This torment cannot be left unread;
By neither eyes nor what does know her name,
Tho' I deserve her cold, what colds unsaid,
Have I so been in love, tho' love to blame.

Through loving pain I birth my sonnet plea
Forgive me-not, then I forgive-not, me.

Shall I proclaim the greatest love can be?
In Gods' own current I - so swim that creed
with breath that gills his bible taught decree
wrought from his holy sons' rebirthing deed.

Yet tho' to Cesar I'll bequeath my land,
in yonder womb my pith shall go to him
and if then questioned faith by judged demand
I shall exclaim a hymn that none bedim.

To kin I've rendered love and neighbour's - truth
my wife alone has seen my barest form
and born therein your image brought in youth
for so the young were blessed of no deform.

My Fathers' law shall be until I've died
then unto grace in light will I abide.

Behind the thoughtless rush that rules my dome;
Rebels a thought to it's impermanence
Infrequent tho', as sweet aromas roam
Intoxicating even doubting sense;
Yet lingers still, equating 'bout an itch
Compounding by her crowding please of eyes;
Aware that grace, in beauty's grace may switch,
And swells of mindless bliss reveal, it dies.
But dreary blinds and lovelessness is death;
A dormant tease with none, left begging more
No! What may loose denotes the counting breath!
The lessee on my neck is there, therefore;

Retitled sovereign, governing this lease
Till by dethrones herself or life to cease.

If the azure glow of the ocean
is summers' own liquid crest
then the curling swells in motion
are the flag ripples in zest.

Unfurl! Fissure - our queen of salts
your pulse surveys our shores
kissing the sands in wavey waltz
and bequeaths the pearly spores.

Tepid husks under amber beams
yearn for littoral embraces,
quench all sheath burnt seams
and drench the basking faces.

Spray your song of briny mirth
tickle our drum-shells with hush
in whisper sing of tiding worth
breeze their sultry summer crush.

Bustling simpers ode your grace
sodden granule shrines arise
the hustle rush - infants chase
you splatter and belch in prise.

Shimmer the peach and the blue!
Wing the terns of whitish grey,
this season a-bore without you
vast emblems, of the golden day.

Shall I endure her vilest winter frost
and splay archangels in the idle snow
until the maple sequins ochre glossed
cavorting upon autumns brittle glow,
thereon in spring rebirth and bloom delights
were to retain the lust of our romance
and when summer's a haze of tepid lights
shall we exult upon the bay in trance,
ashore her amber braids ablaze in strands
and lustre into my myopic eyes
carom thereafter onto golden sands
careening then onto the grainy spies

as long as her diverse seasons cascade
myself alone shall wait till summer's made.

To lay amidst the sweetest ocean breeze
And nestle me to sand a sandy bed,
And let the golden eye tan as he please;
And turn my whites into a bronze's stead,
And splashing notes of coastal whispers hush;
And fly my thoughts where gulls and wings do span;
And flutter in the salty water rush,
And moan do I as sea-fan shells began,
And echoing the love: how here we love,
And brine does make the thirst a pleasure's cause,
And pleasure's coast the streaked blue skies above,
And place me where my swell of love does pause:

For beauty tho' the scene of ocean's make
Have none by eyes of you and my heart take!

The meadows sprout alive with ochre swirls
emerging from - familiar zephyr streams
as tho' through leafage tongue an essence twirls,
but whom had sought and won my Autumn dreams.

The rhythmic chatter's one I've heard before
that drummed my infant years in Falls of old,
with sweetly moans of breezes rife from yore
then swept adrift my thoughts out through the wold.

Amid the tanned and yellow pattern leaves
a brittle patter raps upon this heart,
and blows my wonder where one's love believes;
that here unites what season's drift apart.

O' mother! Yes, it's you within the fall
returning me that love that were my all.

A morbid turn of thought has led me here-
At night, where all the dead do rest in earth
How sickly strange the soil, knows how I fear-
This graven yard of death, and deathly birth.

To then torment myself, I visit hers;
The grave upon my heart and on my love
I taunt an older spell, a book refers:
"bring whom lay here, their spirit from above,

Let none the hardened soil halt thy path
Revive this parted soul and gift her air;
To crawl from out the deathly calls of wrath
To walk upon her ghastly bed to fair,

If this be done then I do promise thee;
My soul unto the force that gifts her 'wake,
Relinquish then this body's husk and be
Where I am deemed to whom her soul's remake".

I wait reply, with none a hope in breath,
But sweeps a gust of wind about her leaves
And there an eerie chatter out of death!
'By God!' I thought, is this to be, she breathes?

The leafage seemed to hear and then responds-
With whispers 'mongst the rustle... 'here she be,'
Without no pause, the mound implodes! With fonds-
Then whirling, whispers weeping, to then see:

Out crawls my frailed, deceased, beloved Ruth
Whose form still bears the scars of death decays,
I'm stilled by horrid screams of torrid truth
'What have I done to you?' my love dismays.

Her falling jaw with eyes of pain, now speaks....
'now 'tis below thine self must claim this grave,'
It's then do I recall, as terror wreaks;
That I did bargain then, my soul to slave.

By unseen force, I fall deep in the hole
And lay inside her coffin, ready splayed;
As still as dead, my light in life have stole
As closed the cast with dirt upon me laid.

Entombed, I scream, but none alive can hear;
By love I lived and love's me buried here!

My grief is told of yonder meadows green
how far, as they appear - from crater deep,
shriveled of stream which perfused this ravine
how can I weep - as none is left to seep.

No petal bloom unfurls, nor ruby shine
for withered wrought the scalding cupid sun,
begot but mine and left a hollow shrine
wherein its done, was fought and sorrow won.

I droop like snowdrops within summers haze
and drift away in hope of Floras' Spring.
To mourn is daze - mislaid in trepid maze,
alike ivy that wring, I tie like string.

The distant lush is all but spectres of lime
yet may I find, the greener grass, with time

O' how I miss and mourn for mother's voice
That swiftly passed like Autumn's southern breeze
And took from Spring one less an Angel choice
That left my heart amongst the fallen leaves.
Appears the blossom tips were seeped that pain
As petals shader dark as love in mine
It too resounds in all the bird's refrain
As tho' their sadly tones; has mine assign.
Ah soon will summer rays then pierce my mourn
And shine that glow to when I lived a child
For mother's love is where my summer's born
And out that love my own has since been styled.

O' mother, yes mama I miss you more!
Than all the seasons brought and past before.

When I return by thought to youthful days;
I sprightly swing upon those swings again,
And wonder how the setting sun replays-
The glory's change of light to nightly gain.
Remembering that night alone brought fear:
That somehow in that darkness I'd be lost;
Alike that Sun I too would disappear-
Onto a lonesome plain, by threshold crossed.
Then I would cease the swings and too have left:
My wondrous gaze that wondered 'bout the far;
Denying light to night's own daily theft,
From then, reciting hence this twofold scar:

Retreat, do all the light when darkness creeps
Perhaps shall prove I'm one, if mine it reaps.

Should twenty more of yours and all the same
Proclaim that they are you and you for me:
What tells could tell wherein my love became-
And where my love by one shall ever be?
Yes, eyes be all of blue and whitish snow
When met with mine hue even more azure,
And blondy lush of hair; do summers' show
By sway that gold commands and winds allure,
With equal tones may all review my write,
Ah! whom most moved, aware that she's my muse;
With hand to voice bare not the read's recite;
Then turn and run to me with love's enthuse!

Yes beauty plays it's part in lovers' choice
But heart reveals your love's the greater voice.

If you with wit and patience reach my chest
And veer in left, be wary of your find:
For you'll become in maze far from my best;
Of scars to newer love, won't be so kind,
As they do mourn like many broken doves;
Together bound that kin have no increase
And call the call of pain from older loves
To flock upon your path, that yours decrease.
But with your loveliness do I believe:
My bitter selves nearby my heart remold-
To grace that yours become my love's reprieve,
Then journey you'd so braved had found my gold:

In golden depth there's hope, but let you know:
If you retreat, how can I blame you so?

If I have ever lived to feel pure love;
No footprint of that love did leave in me
Nor does familiar scents of Cupid's prove
Send conscience into stupor love's decree,
Tho' had my loveless days, turned loveless years;
Deformed in senses, time - when lore did feel;
By thunder 'bout the grail of lover's peers
To where the ardent and my mind congeal.
Ah! Born was I to love, and not of stones
The hearted kiln has turned myself to mold;
What only I surmise to be of bones
Now void of love and void of that of old.

As to the testimony of my core:
I've never loved and nor shall evermore.

(I)

If weary eyes about this classic form
Intake each part; as syllabled before,
Then by such mind here meaning shall deform;
Equal'd the lay of bareness white it wore.
Is time as spare as air is plenty free,
That need bestow deception with what read?
Such reading glass forbids that beauty be
A script of heart; a sight that's better dead.
Yet beats here still and still you lasted long,
Now pity rules behind that centred stare?
To scorn this amateur's own state and song;
Summounting lines with mere a boorish glare?

If here by some of tradegy is true
Then wish you never read, nor wrote it too.

(II)

Enriched upon the riddance of your doubt
Comes comfort you're the old you thought myself,
Now you to fade and shall you fade without
The fame that gifts the older works their shelf.
New beauty now; adds you with further dust;
How knew the wise this antidoting cure:
That pleasures eyes and lets dissolve the rust
And bid this very heart here write her lure.
Yes! She by here account, withholds no lines
But flourish thoughts! Like leaves by April's spring;
That chatter sweet on limbs of sugar pines
In rustling, rapping ode: 'for her we sing'.

By merit due her beauty takes this hand
And writes new love not you in this withstand!

(III)

This poet's eye awakens in her grace!
Abiding treaty's of the sun and dawn,
That sovereign's sight reveal her blessed face;
Entrancing loyal ink that beauty's drawn:
With homage to the Nyx for hue of hair;
There woven rare as silk around a star;
To gently patterned curls of rippling flair
That becons yonder beams from moons afar,
To crystallize her pupils; aqua blue
In clear cut waters found no longer there,
With sensory of sight that pierces through;
Where waiting greets the words of love to bear!

'Oh not another sonnet!' Yet, by three
I have denounced your worth by praising she!

When I behold the blossom hues of spring
My eyes unfurl into the buds of hope;
As out the youthful seeds and petal's wing
Do floral hazes and my sight elope.
What sweetest marriage have their blooms, rebirth;
Tho' secrets bear; my love did never leave,
For seasons of the cold nor heat give earth -
The gentled bulbs that has our growth, believe.
Yes! Mirror then the red of rose, and gold
That 'dills do splay what does the sun so know;
Although with love, does love appear as old
Yet shall the springtime tell: still love you so.

When nature's pupils are awake and stare
And when you gaze them back, shall I be there.

Which season could compare by right to you?
Tho' winter dreams are snowy as your skin
Your bring is warmth that rain dissolves in dew
Whomever known the sun be winter's kin!
As winter's cousin, Autumn ages leaves
Yet youth have yours too young for ochre change,
Yes sweet as fall your breeze, but never leaves
You gift the trees that need not rearrange.
New life of Spring does bloom as I do feel:
Within my chest your touch does bless me new,
But summer spreads to all it's lighten seel
As to my body yours does so imbrue

Yet you're too sweet, tho' much the summer bliss;
Your season is not one, as much would miss.

If love is equal to the fame it claims;
To fame it has no great monogamy,
Behind that which so prides, by self defames;
As plays the part of one's misogamy:
First has believed the host, with wondrous gift;
Deferred the eyes from under beauty's veil
To then proceed the 'everlasting lift'
Until of heart does love itself impale.
Yet have, by love methinks, I've been unjust;
By wary heart in search for better blame;
Than what in shattered glass is shattered trust;
Then love's still love, retreating where it came:

The bitter shards is not of love's remake
Apologies to love, for love's own sake!

How does your beauty fair in Godly realms?
My eyes have placed you there for such compare;
For you that earth upon me overwhelms
To mirror of your flair, they're are none there.
So goddess I confer upon your name;
You need not change as you do wear it now,
And gaze your Greek and Roman peers to shame;
Unknown that beauty in such mortals, allow.
But they may look me down with time's decay;
As If unknown that youth shall meet with age,
Yet mine you've won, that upper you'll shall stay
As tho' by God of youth you do assuage.

Immortal you are not but take this truth
That I shall gift by eyes and ever youth!

When I compare my frame to other men:
I weep, and mirror's glass weeps for me too,
By height it seems their taller shrinks me when-
With force that they deny me greater view.
My dome's as barest 'neath their hairs of lush;
Of thickly grass by substanced strength unknown
How happy must they smile in each a brush
And pleasure's reep by winds that have them blown.
They boast by skin and shape, by right they're art,
Which have me think of art that I am fond:
A lover which attends my mirror's heart
As she's since loved with love's devoutly bond:

As I recall the loveliness she sends
I frown to trade for all their beauty lends!

How most do view of time, with great disdain;
By counting furrows that have sewn their face
And blame the clock whose ever tick remain
By seconds fail their age, bequeathing grace.
But of my love, she wears each crinkle proud
Time's not besieged, instead have given back
As said to time; 'my skin's my own allowed
That you dwell here, is not by willing lack'.
Her strength against time's power, power's pained
Have filled my blemished lines with youths of hers
Now I to face my own bear not time's stained:
My mirror turned from foe, now friend, refers.

For reign of time, with swift, devouring fame
Cannot her grace; her aged gifts mine no shame