What one must do.
Why fight it?
Why deny it?
When giving in,
the rewards are
beyond measure.
What one must do.
Why fight it?
Why deny it?
When giving in,
the rewards are
beyond measure.
The second time she
asked me to write a sonnet,
this is what I wrote.
Everything I write
is for my wife. Has always
been. Shall ever be.
Everything I do,
my very life. As much hers
As it is for me.
Hers is every word
as I write, or as I read–
graphite, ink, or throat.
I think I may have gotten carried away there. So I might as well present in proper format all of the above.
Written in July of 2012. Does it count, or not?
Regard herein a little mystery
That maketh such an interest to see
Within resulting questions some degree.
Not truly spooky…
Though the last called out to me.
To write this sequel.
I’m afraid this is
About as scary a thing
As ever I write:
In peace, I do go
That blessed nectar to seek
May it give you ease
My love, take these tears
To quench the thirst of your soul
I shed them in joy
But soft, and drink now
Breathe the vapours and know me
Read my heart’s message
In peace I sleep now
With joy I will awaken
I dance now at home
Remember, thou shalt
forever be Mine Angel–
one superior
to all the grape is
able to be. And I shall
ever drink of thee,
sweetest, sweetest love;
and thenceforth I should never
again want for wine.