Shall I return to poems scribed of old?
That once with each a turn and covered page,
bereft a seeping fume that laden bold
and from that glyphic smudge - her cursive stage.

For still upon the tips of ink parades
the lissom bride beheld with gentled hand,
and prose's vigil neath the dust pervades;
that either I immerse within, or strand.

Though lyric embers flare her ardent kiss,
embedded texts peruse a lover's loss,
then should the torment forge my own abyss
the depths shall shadow me amongst the moss.

At least in chasms; beloved reels inside
so dwell shall I - where love has not yet died.

Majestic! Stands an empire's pulsing heart:
Embroidered by it's minds of equal thought
That forged upon the earth by brick and part;
The fires of it's citizens whom wealth is brought.
And from such gains have others dared revere
To replica it's might and glories too,
Until that air on mountains burns to sere;
Then who is left to mourn, but only few.
They testify of times of grand machines
Of arms as wide as oceans, gripped to cast
The vastness of the world to lesser Queens
That only in memories could it last.

And as I watch more pillars' great so fall
The rubble of such dreams may be us all.

If reached beside the pearly cradled rose
therein a rattling joy; o' stillborn child.
What uttered mine - unsaid angelic prose,
should passing lay my husk and essence wild?

Awaiting yonder womb were tepid wings;
inflamed with bonding warmth of kinship love,
like softly feathered pads and rocking swings
then ardent glows, as seen and known above.

The wailing babe is music sung and sought,
for more a sleepless dusk - had since apart.
For eyes which never opened wide were wrought
and taken here and strolled in golden cart.

Should words in amber fail and infant pine,
behold the spectrums soul, the same as mine.

(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.

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.

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 there 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'

Routinely lark, though this day depth therein
bemused as why the warbling fluter turned
instilled and sung laments, residing within
and perched unkind; that brittler branches - spurned.

Melodic angst has never sprung so dim
and tunes of fathomed trebles; parted love?
Perchance the ballad pours a swansong hymn;
and from aloft the skies - returns a dove.

If song an' bird be taken dazed with stars
beliefs contort and bowing strings apart
nor stealth be known as fervent dwells the scars,
though bleak the lust for any other heart.

O' feathered, pennate cherub play her whim!
Remain upon the sill and bygones swim.

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

this castle built has walled the inner child
as whispers gasp to breach, but pierce no steel
for father brained that lungs are voices wild
that mouthfuls aren't a streaming bile to wheel

about this throne is ringed a wavy moat
no sand to crown, just swimming bait to dwell
to catch the Venus tongue for none can boat
as sails are none to search the misty shell

now cunning are the roses; leaving trails,
of red tip petals pruned to meet mine eye
and she from out the haze shall tap her nails
then in the window shield, and out my shy

tho' thickened armor mazes; brain and chest
the fairest shall then solve and twine a nest

the springtime sun is zenith near the noon
caroming ray-beams twinkle tips of dills
and stipple violet limbs with specs of boon
that sparkle lime upon the yonder hills

unvarnished whitish patches paste the sky
azure befriends the fluffy glands of spring
as watchful father plays and hides the eye
then bides no shade, but back the glows it bring

far choirs of nimble scouts forage the plains
a southern breeze resounds the chirping worth
which sings to beats of rustling; newer gains
orchestral music plays the mother's mirth

the floral rainbow births a budding maze
how baptized! richly soils that hue the lobes
an honor flowed with winter's snowy glaze
for waters were the forest's frozen robes

a flower's cycle lends to thoughts in own
that spectrum grown and splayed; shall too within
partake in growth for life that's vast to roam
and plumes from sprouting wings shall leaf herein

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.

In homage - splicer of Aladdin's reel;
a bow, beneath the centered piece so drawn
and slants alive in shade of noblest seal,
no other blushing temptress ever worn.

To hasten tryst; may taint her Jasmine gaze
as lashes flutter onto other's love
how then beguile and keep her ardent daze,
thereby no more in spite - a lonely dove?

The mystic canvas; mine - eternal beat,
and soars in winds, which sail's her gentled tones,
adrift and glides, to bloom this rose, complete
once withered long beneath the hermit stones.

If journeyed nether brittle; sways no guise
remote and marvel then - her Jasmine eyes.

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.

When all my substance needs not breath of air
And eyes devolve into the depths of night
Would grace of her divine renew me there-
Between love's cast and love's eternal sight?
No sweeter seraph could deliver mine
If the archangel flew to me herself!
Nor sacred words resaid of love divine
When earthly lips proclaimed of love ourself.
With tiny carriage shall my lover bring
Our cherub! Stilled from life that's yet to live,
On gilded hands my child shall hear me sing
Oh babe I love you so and love shall give:

Beyond my death and far as far need be
Where she and babe resides, there too find me.

I'd long for sorrow, if that sorrow comes;
By touch or voice that she bestow to me
Compare to nought, displeasure then becomes
Attention I have yearned, that mine could be,
Despite such poor reception mine be worth;
That I'm recieved, delights to my neglect
And gives more heartfelt meaning to my birth
That beauty slights their hair, for my affect.
For I, if in my loving kingdom meet-
Her scorn, her frown rekindles then love's hope;
In one as dried of love that love shall greet
And with her bitter sweets, shall both elope:

And brush this shadowed heart out of it's dust
Till then of greater scream: 'now love's a must!'

Let he, like I, of whom with dimming light:
Does view the setting sun within his glass;
By his depressed, or decade's bitter sight;
With stare of sombre eyes, his hours pass,
Onto himself may wish his furrows filled;
And brighter sun complex upon his face;
By reminiscence make what years had splilled;
That he may shine within back yonder grace:
Dear friend, decay has not yet creased your heart;
Why spend the seconds bitter of your years?
Your face is yours as born it's youthful start,
Enough of time is bitter, minus tears!

For we of time; may seek where ours began
Creating merely time's unhappy fan.

Shall words engrave upon my silver stone;
Beneath the title, birth and date I died?
For merely left from worms, is dusty bone
Not there in dust can love let love abide;
That's pure cannot be buried, eaten, cold.
Then false to scribe love's found if here erode
But note there diggers dead to those of old;
If they perturb my everlasting ode
Then they'd have drawn the soul wherein were bound
And curse upon them; out of love they'll be;
As whom these shameless raiders have just found,
Then know that state in which is this here me.

     'What lay beneath is far from
     better self
     Disturb me here then cursed from
     lovers' wealth'

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!

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.

My sonnet to: my future love to be
Tho' now I know you not, I know you some
Enough that you have wit, to love for me,
Let words impart, before our love become.
Refrain from early use, of that called love
As night to day, is past onto that word,
Yes tho' no doubt, our love will form above
I'll be that darkness still, where pain does gird.
If gentle, as imaginings create,
This heart you love, be gifted - soft the touch;
Then through your tones, will 'love' then hide in wait
Until that love shall shine the day as much.

Then all is yours my distant, darling one
Till then I too will wait, where love is none.

No doubt, her temple shines a jeweled trove
each carat gold would glimpse of lover's wealth,
shall I then try entreat her guarded cove;
and win a love, immured from suitor's stealth?

Her lair is wreathed by tears of bitter moat,
a soften rippling tide conceals my stride
each imprint leaves no cast or sandy float
with only faint demures to serve as guide.

For dense, uncertain fogging clouds her glow
as tho' her light's obscured, so none may find,
or love, in templed grief incensing woe
with none a paddled boat so left behind.

Her water's deep and cold, than to allow
tho' having tried, her lantern's brighter now.

How do I write of love, unlike before?
Have bards of old then dripped and dried all pens
that none a phrase nor sequence left to roar,
my hearted themes then blind to any lens.

Should I then rhyme and pray my wit appear
to scheme a love no sonnet, dare have done,
for those who seek to read what love is here
and touch an essence tho'; anew had won.

But if my page imprints a loving new
have I deprived a future poet's scheme
that he be lost, as I am now with rue,
that works, tho' felt, another may beseem.

But love, is love, no other word can meet,
and if that love his own, none can defeat.

For truest love to write from out my pen
Then best a muse be found or none at all;
Decieving them, the curious in men:
Is to deceive myself, thus write as small,
As would a fool with no poetic claim;
Besides the lie in meter would conceal,
Yet found as false as couplets tend disclaim,
So love called true my friends, I can't reveal.
But love of sorts I am equipped to write:
Love blessed with mini imperfecting loves
That still dissolves the weariness of night
And nestles tight devoted, mismatched doves.

But is that love now true as love is real?
Convinced by pen, true love and me congeal!

When will decay defeat her beauty's flair?
For many - an eclipse has turned the night
and left no token seam for her to bear,
unless our maiden moon has stilled my sight.

Her grace within may blind my wrinkled browse
and render form and smile to greater wealth
and trance me in a state where she allows;
each breath of love - within it's truest self.

Tho' morning's glow appears a solar truth;
that from the amber beams her skin renews.
Ah no, I'm in the haze of lover's youth!
For I've become a temple to my muse.

Then I shall live her grandest, bright allure!
And ever young she'll be, mine eyes assure.

O' turn the sun to where she now resides;
That here be dark, and there she's cast in full,
Then if the heart does see, the heart abides
Into the brightest dream of strongest pull.
Then in that golden glow, love has returned;
Brought forth on tips of rays, that shined before,
And has convinced that moment never spurned,
Has self deceived when dwelling deep in yore?
Yes! Each a light does bring a shadow 'neath;
When most revealing is when most in trance
And tho' ablaze the black becomes a sheath,
Till best the dark that were, than now the glance!

Love not the love that lost, but love to be
Avoiding then; the bitter sight I see.

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.

It seems that unborn offspring
passing before birth
actually yield in the Spring
in blossom fragrant mirth.

In floret violet haze
hyacinths cluster eyes
harmonic in swaying gaze.
budding - the unborn guise.

Robins melodically ode
tuning for mothering Flore
that blessed be an abode
unlike dreams lost before.

Snowdrops, are stillborns,
eager infants - were close
sadden bells still mourns
eluded breaths and bows.

Garden times of springs
sensor a revival of life
a budding glow that brings
ardent greeters to rife.

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.

My love for you is as the water falls
cascading off the higher bedrock peak,
outpouring rugged edged and rigid walls
in endless flowing streams, from love's mystique.

To sparkling summer dew on cradling leaves,
condensed to drops, when you were playing dreams,
then from the slightest brush upon your sleeves
then downpours honey scented, splashing seams.

When pupils soak and darker skies then seep,
in every pearl descent, I'll be within
no burden then alone in moistened weep
when grief has dried, the falls again shall win.

My whirlpools gush! Or trickle morns anew
or crawl from wetted eyes, for only you.

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.

Wherein the haven, my own stillborn child?
The cradle couldn't illumine gilt enough
or crafted pure, as love and kin is styled
even if cushioned - in abodes of fluff.

To wonder, eases tears regarding why
and tunes the silence of idle bluebirds,
as Springs' rebirthing season traversed by
which lingers only clouds of greyish girds.

As I remain within the sombre sky
and plead of brighter days - to this unborn,
it dawns as timely - everyone shall die
and light shall perish all the darkened mourn.

Wherever wings the baby souled divine
assure to find - O' little one, and mine.

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.

I wonder if an unusual flock of white crowned sparrows
Were there that day, that fateful day
Sensing, by which means I know not;
The carnage about to come.
In a frenzy of panic I can imagine the flutter
The unruly encirclement over the festivities.

Perhaps an onlooker gazed upon the sparrows
Momentarily captivated by crying white birds
Together with an eerie hush from the desert wind
Surmising that this is an ominous sign,
Could this be one last final thought of the departed.

For high up in the Mandalay, thirty-two to be exact,
Malevolence hailed down -hailed on a strip of the Mojave.
Smokey rounds undiscrimately raced, laced,
With hate into the music lovers.
Did the Red Rock echo the automatic distant mutter;
The disturbing sounds of mass tuned celebrators' dissarayed.

To what cause is there for such bareful morality?
What heart on 32 could not the feel the serenity;
Of the soothing, harmless country beat?
Then still, sought it fit to take many away
Away from their sacred land and kin.

Many souls - stunned by the sudden halt to dancing
Directed upwards, towards the sun
Yearning to return for one last goodbye.
Perhaps then, that same flock of white crowned sparrows
Native to the north - were grasped by the fallen
By some divine intervention.

Then to return to the scene in the Mojave,
Chirping farewell to the bereaved,
Gracing once again - the soil of the free land;
They loved, and perished upon.
Then into the abode - well above the desert sky.

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!

I chase numerical dreams for vocation
ever grasping for untouchable horizons,
counting sand granules
piling leaves in size order
according to shades of ochre.

Then release
to hobby with words
build castles of sentimentality,
sparkle yonder meadows with dew
wetted by inner calligraphy.

Poetry to feather my dust -
echo pain-stained syllables
resounding morosely bound verses,
liberating caved bats
flapping to rhythms
pen strokes.

Launching boulders
onto unvarnished whiteness
once rolling to and fro
on my emotive wolds,
grasslands may grow again.

Pasting tokens of lost love
shrouding texts with torment
stamping lingering wraiths,
least they not prance
for a-while.

Worlds drip-dry here
under auroral poetry
a chance to breathe;
fresh crisp air -
of expressiveness,
I arrived - stayed.

The breaths of fall have swayed the ochre glow
to age the meadow's sheen - with humbling form
then swirls the leaves in whirling wistful blow,
the rustling whispers hush - I too deform.

For I have withered - since the seasons past
as swift as tempered winds have flown my years,
I linger now between my summer's cast
to neath my coat of winter's icy fears.

As tho' to trees like oak I cling to life
in winds that gust and reap from twig and limb
and I, a dangling leaf in breezes rife
awaiting mine; own fall and hue to dim.

From autumn's mulching patter; I derive
my heart's own cease of seasons, will arrive.

Whilst neath the eye of night that shades of blue
and freckled stars of godly beauty marks
a gaze had sought to borrow sparks of new
that echoes through a choir of tenor larks

A twinkled hope between the love and moon
as tho' the orb has pierced it's scene within,
has been too many full, to say too soon;
a blackness starved of which could win herein.

Cliché to wish, yet wish it now will be
and placed upon celestial dots in sky
connect there one and grant it then to me
where love resides and knot these in a tie.

O' splendorous night-dream let cast such light
that renders fuse of heart to gleam a-bright!

When time against my eyes appears in glass;
I witness what was young to be now old;
How quick did timely hands upon me pass
And left a furrowed frame of wrinkled mold.
No year is lost, each one embeds my skin
But did I live them when in times of youth?
For youth did wish me older than my kin;
So I be wise and wiser to a truth:
That age could gift me freedom of myself,
And happiness will follow like the sun
Does greet the morn and shine a day of health:
To add my time is to in time have won.

How foolish were my eyes deceived of time
Now black and white recieves them here in rhyme.

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

If from your depth of chest you gift me more
And lace that gift you'd give as that bestowed
I fear my worth undone for your outpour
As meager even now to what your owed.
For beauty of your eyes lends light to mine
My darker shades may taint your glow unjust.
Not by an absent love, but lack of shine;
Before you graced were I a love in rust.
Ah! That, I do possess, so renders you
In greater light, as darkness does the moon
And had you worship'd more than what I knew
Alike how winter's day gives summer boon.

I need you as your beauty needs my eyes
They grant you form, without all beauty dies.

The snowy lilies gird her pith - in wake;
bejewelled love reposed in truest sleep
as Floras' wreath outdone by sorrow's make,
then thought; what comfort worth are stems - to weep?

Could petals glint upon her sombre plume
and sorb bereaving rain - of mourning kin,
or priestly Latin's timbre out of gloom
and Schuberts' toned refrain - a lighter hymn.

Although, a striking; flowered plush pervades
as fragrance spliced with copal - yields in heart
and over each an ashing pyre cascades,
begotten times and seasons - death not part.

Embraced the blossoms, now upon her lay;
a sweeten lilly - kissed by loves defray.

Shall I exalt your grace as season's bring?
In winter; you're a frosty glazed escape
upon the icy sculpts of harps and string,
then plays the autumn leaves, that oaks undrape.

The ochre glides as you cavort the green
till blossoms bow; to all your springlike glow,
amidst the roses we proclaim a queen!
A spring vernal upon us - you bestow.

When dew has dried by amber's master hue
and caroms off the sea the summer beams,
within akin; devotes my lovers view
that eyes azure could match the ocean's seams.

My many seasons you are in cascade!
This love shall bask in each - when one is made.

If I pronounce to him a fool who'd part
with you, the whitest swan a bevy flies
then I shall too as now be cast apart
for lesser man is he that never tries.

Tho' take no ballad' sign of my requite
assure that there's a yearn within desire
for toiled have I in lusts refrain despite
for your above as I have dwelled the mire.

Tho' should your love upon me bathe and shine
would I in grasp accede that ruby stone
then place that gem to near the pith of mine
and dance around that rose uncovered throne.

So then accept this writ as love's own line
and should it pierce a heart, then love be mine!

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.

Shall I from heart reveal your grace in rhyme?
Your tenderness enthrals a love thought lost:
Your eyes revive the bluish hue of mine
Your morning's sun that clears all winters' frost,
Your winter's snow imbued throughout your skin
Your rain that patters sweet when driest most
Your mirth does meet the spring as tho' are kin
Your when the gilt of day is mine foremost,
Your sunset when your face intakes the sun
Your smile is summer months in all the twelve
Your love in wondering: where love begun
Your thoughts of thoughts that dearly love to delve:

That I do love as oh! rhyme does your ode!
Then read you more, when more my love's bestowed.

If love were formed and rendered by a God
then dearest lover, blessed have you been
for he, or she, with wand had also ****
and touched upon your cast, a beauty's sheen.

Exquisite works that I so marvel oft
as other Gods, like that whom rules the sun;
had sought to bind such glow, with light aloft,
and nightly moons, into your eyes, have won.

Your love, and God thereof, have greater worth
as love has pierced within and won my mold
residing deep, into my source of mirth,
that if no love, let Gods alike withhold.

As love that truest, must be dreamed above,
there's only one such power; God of love.

Against the onward clock, you stand as were
When springs' of old did share your present state,
Such that in you; your petal's inner myrrh
Have fragranced that outlasts our ageing fate!
From yours of sweetest scent do I detect,
Inward allow you where my age does store
And drawn as bees would to it's honey sect
Are those that youth me young as times before,
Invigorating mine that change my sight:
How I view me and all mine were distained
And have my burrows filled by youthful might
That when your eyes are far; you have remained:

By cause your essence lends it's grace to mine
To withhold time; I name your grace devine!

Turn off the sun and moon, to view your form
As purest as the light that then just dimmed
Celestial orbs do blind your eyes perform
To witness that within, your gaze has skimmed.
To know yourself is knowledge that your love
Has worth to give, and worth to render men
And needs no light to gift you from above
But take these words and practice that I pen.
If then you seek that manly half you've missed
Let know that I am fond of that you've found
As to my own have yours with light so kissed
For while in darkness, I to you were bound.

Relight them when your mind, minds - not their show
And find me there in wait, with inner glow.

Your single-hood gives time to beauty's waste:
Such charity you will in time donate,
Why give then now when bitter shall it taste-
To see your prize transfer, some distant date.
Recall your mother's grace, gave you your start
Yet do you so deprive another's dream?
To wear as proud the beauteous of art,
And claim of yours the womb of their own gleam!
For loveliest of forms, we need of more,
Spare thought for eyes of many, future's gaze
Who may deny your beauty as past lore-
Unless yourself do give by form your praise,

Alone bequeaths that soil's sole beauty's heir
To live past dust, another you must bear!

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!