Sonnet 117 of 218 to my muse



Sonnet 16/12/03                      DCCCLXVII

Might I touch muse's soul with words, or brush
Her dreams with my desire? I am too cold
To battle snow, but in this moonlit hush
I find dreams give me reason to be bold.
Might I give gift of beauty, to compare
To distant echo of her smile? I know
I have not means to send what I might dare
To think would worth to now and future show.
Might I seek for some token that could earn
A smile or caring glance? I would give all
To make dreams real: My soul, to desires turn
To memory; My heart, to her heart call.
I see within my muse far more than sight
Reveals: Is it spirit that shines so bright?