Silly Sonnet On a Restless Night

A silly sonnet on a restless night All day long and into the evening my heart has been pining for my true love and I wonder, is she for me longing? Apart from her there is no heav’n above. Sleep doth not o’ertake me as my mind turns to her and my body longs to be near where she is, yet more than long, it doth burn but not for touch, but just to have her ear. Laugh she does at my jocularity and my literary side she comprends, with my mind familiarity. To our love shall there never be an end? Now I have heard from her by cell-phone text To my chamber, I can now take my rest.