Sonnet 16/04/04                            CMVII

I brush my muse's lips, and touch her cheek,
With thought of her soft skin. How can I reach
To touch her heart? What can I say, to teach
The pleasure her smile gives? My words are weak,
Compared to strength of passion my dreams seek:
All I desire would only give me cause
To want for more: Yet, longing for her draws
My verse beyond myself, to heaven speak.
I run my fingers through her hair, to hold
Some of her softness: Can I hope to feel
Her gentle dreams? I would in arms enfold,
And keep her near, if only dreams were real.
Should I think that I might of my hopes mold
Dream strong enough to her heart hope to steal?