Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
One Hundred and Fifty-Five Sonnets - 11. The pudge-face God of Love
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Sonnet No. 21
That little sadness in you beats like a clock –
Telling the numbers that minutes hours count
In the slowness of misery's tick-tock –
When time stops and waits for sorrows to mount.
But if I could, my hand would wipe the slate
So all that reckoning would mean nothing
And know I would, I shall not hesitate
To offer your heart a little soothing.
Do not be sad, dear young man that I love,
Within our hearts a timeless strain now beats,
One that gives measure to everything above,
And makes quick the dead wherever it meets.
Your sadness cannot keep up with that pace
When Love renews all of our missing grace.
Sonnet No. 22
The pudge-face God of Love may pull his bow,
And finger his darts with a lusty aim,
But it's you who draws tight my shaft below,
To prick me surer than that boy of fame.
For these lines are meant to make you smile,
Although the weather may be oppressive,
If these words on your lips tarry a while,
Then sweeter than chocolate is what you give.
We need a little romance in our life;
A bit of a break just to reconnect –
With paper hearts and bon-bons to kill strife,
For you as my Love, I'll always select.
Though it may be far from Valentine's Day,
Be my summer Valentine, in every way.
_
- 7
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
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