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