sonnet 107 of 215 to my muse...


Sonnet 27/10/03                           DCCCLVII

Might muse come to my arms, or give a kiss
That I might know that this vision is real?
Should I dream of her eyes, or lips, but miss
Her warmth? Might I touch face, to her smile feel?
She holds my heart: Would that I held her near.
How can my dreams offer so much, and yet
Leave me with those few words to make hopes clear?
All I might dream does not my fate offset.
I cannot cease to care: Muse remains more
Than one to be desired, or to pursue.
Her words reach to my heart, and claim the core
Of self: They offer to soul what is true.
She is true muse: I need not her lips see
To know that smile gives all of love to me.