SONNET 209
By JH Sayyar
O blind love; be off from my eyes,
Making me blind; I am tired of you,
Sitting before me morning to sunrise
To feed you like a babe getting rue.
I sacrifice years to make you young,
Now I am old; you have left me lone
In love-desert; how sweet your tongue,
Deceives my soul now my tears moan
What I seem; stored in my brain box,
That makes me young in sullen days,
Life rests on will, so the will, mocks
At old men like me to be young craze.
Do love but once to collect memories,
For rusty days to enlighten the worries
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