SONNET
300
By JH Sayyar
Fresh love weak, strong love old,
Its beauty increases with cruel time,
Neither it is bought nor it is sold
Nor mingles with worldly chime,
Today’s love deceit, past love pure,
Today’s love just in quest of fame,
Both do not surely love lust cure,
In return gets lover always shame,
Love plant grows in humble soul,
Its seed, holiness free of all greed,
Making happy lovers free of dole,
It grows soon with a pure seed,
Your love tells me, what are you?
Your eyes reveal; love full of woe
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