Sonnet 325

Her beauty was too great for words to bear,
Celestial vision bright without a peer;
What thought the common who would stop to stare
At that fair raptured blessing floating near;
Porcelain visage born of clouds above,
Arresting eyes of pure cerulean blue,
A voice as gentle as a lulling dove –
From paradise, an angel’s billet-doux.
What prompted gods to give her robes divine
While others are but clad in common tweed?
Why is one floret blessed in blooms sublime
While others share drab garb of common weed?
What place be ours to question heaven’s grace …
When stopped to scan the wonders of that face.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

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