675. Her golden hair, like threads of morning light,

SONNET 675
By JH Sayyar
Her golden hair, like threads of morning light,
Did shimmer bright beneath the summer sky,
And in her gaze, a dream both soft and white,
A whisper wrapped in winds that wandered by.
Her lips, like roses touched by dawn’s first hue,
Did press to mine, a flame both sweet and wild,
A kiss that burned yet bores cooling dew,
As though the stars themselves in rapture smiled
No words she spoke, for silence held more grace
Than verses sung or the poet’s finest line;
She wrote her love upon my waiting face,
Ah! In tender strokes no artist could design.

O blessed was I, to taste that golden bliss—
Heaven on barren earth within a single kiss