I'm not going to let lack of poetry kill this thread.

                                                8-{E


Sonnet 26/03/04                     DCCCXCVIII

I miss my muse, though I know she'll return
And bring her smile to light my dreams. I find
I cannot think that my poor words might earn
Enough of her attention to hopes bind.
I try to tell my dreams, but all I say
Does not true hopes reveal as my heart sees.
I want her happiness: What must soul pay
To win a world that listens to my pleas?
I offer all I dare, to passions show,
Yet find she gives far more with just her eyes.
I am enthralled- How can I angel know
And not have heart be captured by her sighs?
She is desire, made real and warm and sweet:
How can I not want to her dreams complete?