Your passion is anchor for my weakness,
With eyes intent, I study your image,
Truly thy beauty has left me speechless,
Think I like you more for a mind splendid.
What does constitute or define true love?
Blistering stares or hours long in thought,
Confessions in pouring rain with feet in mud,
Is it kissing the ground on which you walk?
I have my pondering and a picture,
You cannot escape the gaze of my eyes,
While staring here daily in the mirror,
Reminded how truly that times does fly.
Maybe I'll catch you with cupid's arrow,
To walk side by side along the narrow.
A Sonnet for Belle