"A Sonnet"

Is there a reason why we paint her face

With such a garish, gaudy quality,

With all the words of elegance and grace,

And ev'ry phrase that forms frivolity?

Is it our love that causes ill-restraint?

Our beating heart that keeps repeating lies?

Our boundless passion making her a saint?

Is sunlight truly dimmer than her eyes?

O, I have no such words to lend to thee,

No such eloquence or frilly, foppish phrase,

And often I might doubt what I may see

And secondguess this hourly daily daze,

But you and your and all thine love I need,

Unadulterated by poetic deed.