857, I call you out, my sweet love, through the air,

SONNET 857
By JH Sayyar
I call you out, my sweet love, through the air,
Where evening winds sigh through the trees;
Your name I whisper, borne on wings of prayer,
To float like a song upon the dusky breeze
The stars awake, yet none can match your light,
Nor moon reflects the glow within your eyes;
I seek you in the hush of the falling night,
Where dreams arise and earthly sorrow dies.
O! Come to me, from silence, shade, or fire,
Let time grow still beneath your gentle tread;
My voice is longing, laced with heart’s desire,
To draw you near from realms where angels tread

I call you out, and our love shall be the sound
A vow that seeks your soul wherever it's found