SONNET 131
By JH Sayyar
Nothing in the past days’ treasure,
Except the reflection of a cute face
That swims when I think in leisure,
Yea! Enhancing my fickle pen grace
Do think; why I am your lover still
I do see heaven in your cute eyes,
Making fresh my duller soul’s will
O Lady whenever my poor fate cries
I do thank for you, provide all raw
Conceptions turning into the verse,
Your counsel mends natural flaw,
Fools are those who beloved curse.
O MY Sweet love your face and hair,
Provide me words to write I declare.
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