Sonnet IV - For A.

You often seemed to me to be ideal

A vision of perfection, purity.

And blooming in the moonlight, floridly,

I found you in the flesh, seeming unreal.

Dark and silky hair. Endless almond eyes.

Your simple, virgin soul of cloudy pearl.

Oh, surely should I fall for such a girl,

Her unworldly perfection: my demise.

But more than love you, there’s something I fear:

My tainted hands could never hold a thing

So perfect now, but marred when we combine.

Now I must watch like widows on a pier,

In loving you, all I can do is sing

And dream of one day I could call you mine.