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Sonnet 29/11/00                        CDXCV

I write of love, but base my words on hope.
On dreams, and on desires. I do not know
How to give my muse less than heart, or cope
With feelings I should not allow to grow.
You are true muse: I do not this deny,
That you have sent my verse. Yet, shall I dare
To ask for more? To risk all, I might try
To find heart's desire, and show that I care.
Might I ask for the limit you would place
Upon emotions? How can I recall
What I have given, or my words erase?
Would you have me out of caring fall?
You offer hope: A prize I wish to hold,
Though I'd keep friendship, and leave love untold.