Sonnet 444

What binds me to you? Naught but golden strings
Invisible to every eye save mine,
So being trussed, the sweetest joy there brings
And better yet, the closer to entwine!
These hearts once twain, may now live but as one,
One heart, one soul, one being of delight;
A single silhouette beneath the sun,
One shadow soft ensconced in pale moonlight.
Who spins these gentle chords that we call love
And wraps them so with but the softest hand?
Perhaps some act of Eros from above
To weave in truth, that state of rapture grand;
Bestowed by chance or yet ordained by gods,
No soul so bound was ever yet more awed!

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

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