Love Sonnet 8



I wish that I were a book,

One at which you’d always stare,

Sole beneficiary to your admiring look,

Preserved in memory with great care,

Please don’t imprison me in your library,

But press me always to your chest,

Like a volume of scripture, holy,

With your loving tears blessed.

Keep this book with you always;

A diary where your dreams can roam,

Down long-forgotten, mystic hallways,

Leading to your immortal home;

A kingdom gilded with the sacrifice,

Of ever-loving, watchful eyes




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