Sonnet 246

What miracle of life, what wonder so
That here to sacred senses beauty tends
To shape unto our minds and there bestow
Great joys that with our sorrows do contend;
Thus so with eyes I see a beauty bright,
And with keen ears I hear endearing sounds,
Her warm embrace and kisses pure delight
Wherein touch, taste and sweetest scents abound.
Still senses are but agents from abroad,
Who have returned to bring in measured form
Some semblance of a truth that may cloak fraud,
Though by gestalt, creates a cogent norm.
Some beauties are but well constructed schemes
That in the dawning, fade like sultry dreams.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

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