SONNET 64
By JH
Sayyar
O Rose your
lips like red, red rose,
Upon the breast spreading silky hair,
All mad when you make a thigh pose,
I do know just the breast color is fair.
My Rose’s lungs hurt I know it well,
All night you vigil, why you do so?
Something is wrong in the bosom hell,
I am here Darling full of earthly woe.
Either you are too chary or tell a lie,
In making true love I believe in you,
You trust me not another comely guy,
Lives in the heart to make bill and coo.
Loyal friends in life are found a few,
These like those who sit on the pew.
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