Friday, February 14, 2014

Moon Moth Sonnet

You, gift of God to earth new-made in spring,
Oh, fill these arms! My wooden tongue, extoll
Silvered art unfurled in August evenings,
Lighting windows to an enkindled soul!
This delicate creature of steely mien
Binds their covetous eyes in siren’s art
As gentle inner clockworks pass unseen.
Well-armored thus, it guards the opened heart.
These palms raised up in paean, held out in plea,
Wishing for that not given to possess.
With surfeit of beauty, he painted me,
Crimsoned my cheek with a kiss o’er a tress.
Loved well, I wished an equal heart to tend,
Forgoing the chase to await a friend.

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