Tuesday, June 13, 2017

JH Sayyar's Sonnets

64
My love your lips are like red, red rose,
Upon your breast spreading silky hair,
All go mad when you make thigh pose,
I know just the breast color is fair.
My Rose’s lungs hurt I know it well,
All night you vigil why do you do so?
Something is wrong in your bosom hell,
I am here sweetie full of earthly woe.
Either you are too chary or tell a lie,
In making love I do believe in you,
You trust me not another comely guy,
Lives in the heart to make bill and coo.

Ah! Loyal friends in life are found a few,
These are like those who sit on the pew.