SONNET 351
By JH Sayyar
When my eyes your eyes survey,
I am fault less: the fault of time,
Time crooked knife makes hair grey,
Your pretty youth; I write in rhyme,
Awaking love, flutters on the cheeks
But O Rose coquettes make you bold
Both, love and hate all night tweak,
Your false love lives in my dim eyes,
But I see not in it my wrinkled face,
Look my face in the glass your cries,
Grey hair with furrows on the grace.
You weep when soul flies to the skies
Death cannot steal you from the rhymes,
I love you more; condemn your crimes
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