Sonnet 550

When I first touched your hand I cannot tell
For in the mists it lingers with your smile
To resonate much like a soft rung bell
That gently fades into the distant while;
And when of time we shared the primal kiss,
Of many since, it seems a drop of rain
That fell with others on broad fields of bliss
And did asperge the vast unsettled main.
So bless sweet time that blurs when it began
There clouding memories of love’s prime embrace,
So seems the blush of fervor on the pan
That once ignited, ever souls engrace.
It matters not when love first claimed the heart;
It matters most that we shall never part.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

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