sonnet 133 of 225 to my muse...


Sonnet 26/02/04                     DCCCLXXXIII

Each day is perfect that I find my muse
To have a smile, and offer some of dream.
Though winter still, she can my heart confuse,
And make the ice just some new flower seem.
Dryad of desires, planting seeds that grow,
She nurtures hopes long dormant back to life.
Within her eyes, I see the stars, to show
Each blossom where to look. Her words are rife
With thought I want to seize: To hold her hand,
And understanding seek of one who cares.
I dare not ask, nor think I could demand
My hopes, yet might I beg that she kiss shares?
I have faint reason to be quite so bold,
But know my heart must have my feelings told.