A Sonnet For Her
She is my mind’s canary; her song soft
As if fluttering upon my soul’s breeze.
Or is she Tempest, tearing heart aloft?
Power, beauty, that brings this man to knees.
Oh treasure, is she, gladly discovered
No book could teach this heart its lesson learned.
Misremembered sight for any other;
Forgotten flames of many embers burned.
How, now, does my soul search and seek her form
Though she recedes away upon cruel wind
How I crave for a love not known before
And the sustenance for which love portends.
Verily, is she the sight of my mind:
A sight of sights which leaves me ,for others, blind.