Sonnet 1

Sonnet 1 Thou makest my day a true insightful day, My night a genuine night of the Star. If thine love would come to rest, I shall die; No day nor night would I survive afar. Fact of this thou knowest with thine heart's blood; No man can last to breathe without love's air. If this knowledge thy brain has understood, Know that my rotten lungs need thine scent of hair; And mine sickly heart thine touch of woman's hand. Like rain, dost thou water my organs of ill love. Worth of thine soul, I now do understand; Parted from it, I can not look above. A Love once insignificant kills me; Shall not I lose thee for eternity. Love & Trust, B.B.