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 - 55. Love's muscle
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Sonnet No. 109
If I pluck from the air a question old,
I'm sure that many will know what I mean,
For universally in this state bold,
One's love in another's is easily seen.
So shall I write how beautiful you are? –
How your eyes sparkle with wit and pleasure;
How your face is that of an angel's boudoir
Where my happy thoughts constantly seek leisure.
Shall I say what it is like to take your hand? –
To feel the firmness, and reciprocation,
As you hold me back from your firebrand,
But pull mine closer, for some compensation.
Back and forth, there may be some gentle tussle,
But it's always good to stretch Love's muscle.
Sonnet No. 110[1]
To walk Rue Cler, with you my bright sweetheart,
Is a sweet dream of Paris, and one day
We'll view its produce gathered in outlay
With hearts effervescent and sparkling smart.
And later my hand will play your cap's part,
Having coffee in a court hidden away –
Over-watched by the bedchamber where we stay,
And to it, step by step, every inch we'll chart.
Under linens as white as sheets of snow,
All our sense of isolation will melt,
As I kneel there to kiss the tranquil glow
Off your soft lips so masterfully felt,
And mutually we will lock on so
To the music which that hammering dealt.
[1] Translation of De marcher rue Cler, à toi ma douce, Sonnet no 100 above.
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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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