..should ever these poor lips embrace her smile

then kill me Zeus, for I would have it all

Olympus hold no rapture in its mile

Diana's heart would suddenly grow small.

The taste of love my sunshine, how to tell

mere sonnets are impotent and so trite

yet here I write one more beneath her spell

as love evolves another sleepless night.

I'd beg her: do not breathe into me, love

for now I die in rapture of this day

lament not for my soul that flies above

into forever's arms to wait and pray.

Ma belle cherie, you hold my heart, tis true

confess your love, and say that I have you

more of my sonnets HERE