and now...


Sonnet 1 of 1018


                Sonnet 05/12/73                                I

                When shall I see you, dearest friend of mine,
                Who has my heart within your lovely hands?
                What shall I do without your presence fine,
                More beautiful than those from foreign lands?
                And yet, it seems your ivory hands have dropped
                My heart upon the ground: Nothing's left of me;
                    And yet, is it really true, could it be
                That one as you rejects my worldly ways
                For greater things, thoughts on a higher plane?
                My soul is hidden, as within a haze
                Of tears, the blood of my love's dead remains.
                Why are you not here with me; What could I
                Have done to deserve this fate, as if to die?