Sonnet 252

Her looks did kill me, and I was so slain
Though love not hatred was the arrow there,
I clutched my virtual breast, as if to feign
A mortal wound had spilt blood with a stare;
Perhaps she saw the pallor in my face
Heme drained, in pain, beneath the victor’s gaze,
I bowed my head as though in sad disgrace
Though truth be known, my spirit was upraised;
But die I did, and I surrendered sweet,
Both heart and soul into her loving arms;
Her mouth upon my mouth restored life’s beat
And I recovered full, quite free from harm.
From time to time, afflictions do return,
Her lips touch mine, and frailty does adjourn.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

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