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An English Sonnet of Adoration
Thy countenance behooves what I adore
The sun is dim beside your smile and glow
I see things in you never seen before
You make my heart beat anything but slow
Your feet they float on surface where we walk
Your clothing wafts like mist above the ground
I look at you and find it hard to talk
My voice does not give forth the slightest sound
I see your hand and wonder does it call
Or is it just to drive me far away
Your hair, is as is for a summers ball
I have the will, I ask show me the way
I contemplate the way to make you mine
I may need help to get me past the line
Copyright ©
Warren Mbaht
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