Sonnets, Serenade and Poetry
Tis’ truly hopeless…I cannot save myself from thee
Shakespeare’s sonnets, serenades and poetry all tis’ true?
Yet, I must profess
Every desire of adoration, before I am through
Thine smile shine unto those tone enriching eyes
In my direction peer but, for shortest of while, seemingly chide
The sweet elixir my heart doth drink
Each sip of yon radiance goes undefined
So what must I do? As I stand here within a daze
Being mine own contemporary cupid
With crowds that gather round
My performance as fool deems quite too lucid
The puckering lips, tis’ my sending arrows and my palm tis’ the bow
Sweetest not than darker chocolates, but my blowing kisses
Hoping for an open heart
To be pierced by my wanting wishes
The crowds of silence now,
Frozen stiff in pondering state
Of thy expecting receptions
which soon chooses to my fate?
Tis’ thy eyes now stained with tear
That fall upon arrow’s head cold
Melting, melting
Into the puddles of my hope
Thy smile returns
With eyes quite sincere
A delivery of thy own kisses
When ye traverse so wildly near
And thy offer tis’ feral tense
Cut short by standers approvingly to cheer
Shakespeare’s sonnets, serenades
And his poetry all of it tis’ here
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