Sonnet
Okay, so. I wrote a sonnet for someone. It's my first ever. Italian format.
What grace or god or fortune's whim decreed
The humble inquisition paid mine eye?
A scrawl to mask a sonance I hold nigh,
The flower of her charm blooms from that seed.
With clearest love and vision I proceed,
Would not this mortal seraph dare defy,
To tell in paling notes, "Love, it is I,"
And weakly whisper of a lover's need.
But harken- does she sweetly sing akin?
Those gentle lips, they part to rouse my joy.
Her dulcet song bears my unworthy plea,
And light- that smile must betray no ploy.
What more- her hand's caress, like silken spin,
Does offer that her wants and mine agree.
No one ever reads this, so I'm basically just storing it in a portfolio, if you will.
What grace or god or fortune's whim decreed
The humble inquisition paid mine eye?
A scrawl to mask a sonance I hold nigh,
The flower of her charm blooms from that seed.
With clearest love and vision I proceed,
Would not this mortal seraph dare defy,
To tell in paling notes, "Love, it is I,"
And weakly whisper of a lover's need.
But harken- does she sweetly sing akin?
Those gentle lips, they part to rouse my joy.
Her dulcet song bears my unworthy plea,
And light- that smile must betray no ploy.
What more- her hand's caress, like silken spin,
Does offer that her wants and mine agree.
No one ever reads this, so I'm basically just storing it in a portfolio, if you will.