Secret Admirer

If rhyme belittles verse then let it be; At night the sun outshines eclipsing moon. And though no green is seen on any tree, By shrouds of dark unwind the bright cocoon. Around in circles back to where we start, Let footsteps never trace or hold your hand; I’ve seen you smile. I’ve felt my breathless heart. I’ve written poems I don’t understand. Yet, who am I to speak, besides unknown? In truth, I often ask the very same. From youthful chords reverb an ancient tone; My measures merely sing without a name, But yours I whisper; may joy be upon it; This poet declares your beauty his sonnet.