To Find A Way (Sonnet 11)
by Duke
I search my soul for ways to better speak My love for you, love words cannot convey I finish feeling frail, indeed, and weak Unable in my quests to find that way A way grown over with the weeds of time And hidden by the forests of self doubt; In last resort, I pen this shoddy rhyme, To give to whom I cannot live without A woman joyful, beautiful, and wise My only wish is to forever be The person whom she looks upon with eyes Which hold but love. Fate, please do favor me And bless me with the priceless gift of days To show my love. Surely there must be ways.
Submitted: May 4, 2001
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