SONNET 314
By JH Sayyar
Tired of woe I rest in your arms,
When my sleep descends in soul,
I feel self in dream; free of harms,
I see angels of heaven making carol,
Her cheeks on my cheeks, red lips,
Her coral breasts full of lustful heat,
I recall Adam’s love in my Eden kips,
Running fast than average heart beat,
Awake from the dream I in this world,
Full of wail and owe on the ground
Soul flies to hell; soul-cry I heard,
In silky arms no charm I have found,
Love; a palm tree, no shade no fruit,
Its heat burns feet: stops the route!
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