Friday, July 21, 2017

JH Sayyar's Sonnets

25
No love in your bosom lies for me,
But I think that I love you more,
You hate me as the Forbidden Tree,
I worship you O lady not abhor.
All worship Muse for a poetic flight,
But my Muse is your sweet breath.
See in your eyes when I am in plight.
All my pleasures get a sure death.
Line-treasure I find in your lovely eyes,
And your soft bosom is free of sorrow,
If you cheat me my poor love dies.
But all are to die today or tomorrow.

All worlds die but my pretty line not dies,
You live in rhyme when your breath flies