Sonnet- Till Endlesslly...
Thy beauty tells how green the grass will be,|
‘Tis when its dew reflects unto thine eyes,
Whilst even--flow retains the balance sea—
Of love, though waters failed to sketch the skies.
Dwelt on the utmost peak of nothingness,
Thyself has been embraced by empty sphere—
Alas! Mine aches will be without a rest;
As promises of spring shalt be adhere.
So let the rain pours down unto my place—
As it may find a way to grant my pray’r?
‘Midst fewer drops of faith it can be trace,
O merest scent of thine: it seems so near.
Thou hast accept the tide without my love,
Till endlessly will wait, chance I might grab.
(C) 2019 Veronica Gray
© 2019 amberdusk
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