Sonnet #2
With her sweet eyes she saw how sad I lived,
With her red-fire hair she attracted my sight,
With her lovely, girly voice, my desire thrived,
And to love her makes my existence bright.
With such tenderness, she used to call me "my boy",
And I called her "my girl" in my deep sleep.
Whenever we talked, I felt so much joy
That I could hear with great force my heart's leaps.
Now this muse is gone to far away lands,
But I have her memory well preserved.
She's here in my darkest moments, and
She helps me in the nightmares that I've lived.
Give me your hand, and take my hand as well,
And while we walk, our desires to us tell.
This poem is about:
Me
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: