if but the words of those were more suited
the poets past the most knowed, the very
sweetest words ever written, those who call
the name by its name sing its song better
were that but true, or deserved of you
my sonnet would never have been written  
of how your soul is my passion your you
my muse, my mission, yet with but words 'lone
and skill lacking to amount to one breathe
exhaled on a grateful earth by you
my love my muse, my fire in burning so