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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