Friday, February 22, 2008
Sonnet - 6
What love be that which held gently within,
Beats not a rhythm of the gold band's bourn,
Ignites the throat and the wetness therein,
Carves the rounds on a smile that life doth mourn?
What be buried 'neath mounds of memories,
In shades of sepia and tear-tint-sighs
Rent by fading tones of breathless scurries
Of our names festooned betwixt joyous cries?
Is it that love you sacredly cherish
Shall earn all black repute that man may churn -
Known-unknown hearts pilloried to anguish,
While cosset that love's flame that doesn't burn?
'Tis but the scorch he craves and villain be
For sweeter becomes love that none shall see.