sonnet 189 of 238 to my muse...


Sonnet 19/10/04                      CMXLIII

I am but human: I would like to give
Far more than I have means or time for. Yet,
It bothers me, that I cannot words live:
She deserves moon for light, stars in hair, set
To crown her face, but my arms cannot reach
To moon, or stars, or her. There comes a time
When I must sleep, though I would smile beseech
And beg for her words. Is my weakness crime?
How can I stay worthy of muse's gift,
When I repay dream with excuse? I fear
Life is beyond control, but I should lift
Her needs above my own, to hold hopes near.
Am I a fool, to want to give her all,
When I can't time spent truly my own call?