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.

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