4th of 12...

Sonnet 27/05/05    MidNight at Franklin's    MVII

The witching hour, and you have cast a spell,
That I watch every move you make. I try
To turn away, but eyes return. Thoughts tell
I am a fool, but cannot hopes deny.
I watch you dance, and dream, but dare not ask
For more than smile. I cannot find the nerve
To offer more than words, though my words mask
Desires: Yet, what can my mere words deserve?
You light dreams with your smile, and fill the night
With flash of eyes: Should I not let dreams form
In which I wake at dawn holding you tight,
Or of chill evening when I'd keep you warm?
How can I dream, and not be thought a fool?
Your beauty all of reason overrules.