Thy tunes of love mended old sin bruises

Laurel crowned thee rhymer veiled thriving thread;
Canst I be Rose boding marvel verses,
Thou ashen fear of losing my glow shred?
Keep melding thy sonnets so they can sing:
For being far is death like; dreaming awake–
Being night pith awake punctured by the sting
Whereas Saturnine faint Luna gapes ache–
Gasps lust rooted in my arcane lost sighs,
Hastes me mindless toil counting all the stars
Whilst missing thee grinds humorous revise
Leading to whet farce of Venus and Mars.
Will not let me fall deeper in taint dark
For I am thee black coral, thy soul mark.

May 13, 2012

Note about Venus and Mars, see:  http://www.folger.edu/template.cfm?cid=2889

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