Sonnet II

What is love if not a butterfly's wings? It is transient, although eternal. Love, it is the song that every bird sings. The pow'r of love burns, like an inferno. But love is devious, mastering souls. He squeezes the heart, takes it in his hand. He is beautiful, but never lets go. Attention is what he always demands. Love is beautiful, yet invisible. He is kind yet mercilessly cruel. True love can never be divisible. Love controls all, for he is not a fool. Love, love is everlasting and so kind He, he is forever young, without time.