sonnet 113 of 217 to my muse...

Sonnet 27/11/03                         DCCCLXII

My muse's thoughts kiss me awake, and rest
Upon my dreams at night. I feel their touch
With dawn, and day, and dusk. I have been blessed
By smile and eyes: I am thankful for much.
My dreams of her give reason to do more
Than plodding toil: I seek a higher goal.
Vision of her fills heart, and reaches core
Of self as if I were seeing my soul.
My hopes for future color dreams, but mind
Knows what is dream, or real. I'll not expect
To hold a dream, but should hopes be confined?
Might I vision of heart's desire select?
Perhaps dreams may not be: Yet, can I live
Without some hope that I might my love give?