Sonnet I

 

 

I do not know

was it your shoulders broad to lean on

your kindness in my crisis

or your smile

was it your beauty not to be ignored

that did entrance me

all these years ago

whenever I did see you I was glad

and happiness prevails if you are present

the air is sweet

as is my love

to trust it will be, trust me, never failing

your shyness and politeness did allure

your friendship I am sure

would give me pleasure

as perhaps mine would to you

II

And yet again you have been all too kind for words

and it´s a never ending poet´s quest to find them

but since the poet´s shield is, where speech ends

I shall redeem my honor, bechance not my heart

To dwell on times beyond shall not me my desire

the future it is, that I have in mind

and knowing you, though decades we not met

I must confess, I´d want to pay in kind

All you have been to me, for that remembrance is

in all the friends, that e´er have been bliss

to have endured my up and downs amiss

so I might being up, and that fact does exist

I write twelve sonnets to each muse I trust,

so you are short of ten, so meet we must.

III

Tonight I saw you, and what do I do?

I grab my laptop, just to write to you!

So tender you have been again

and without strain

I vowed twelve sonnets, of them this is twain

for the first counts not, I am well aware,

to tell about your beard, your looks shall shame

whoever does take care, I shall arraign

to conquer you, might it with powers, swain,

In all those years methinks you have not withered

and still I tremble, when you´re there

and can´t think of anything amusing,

to charge upon your benevolent stare.

How shall I put the ease that I sustain

If I am in the laughter of your eyes

how shall I see your age come from demise

and refer mine to that without disguise

That evening you were mine to all extent

I hope, t´was not an hour all misspent.

IV

Again my thoughts do dwell on you

cause my best friend, Bettina knows you through

the times of park, and she, now renown psychologist

and blond and full of grace, I phone her daily

surmised, that I in talking about you, would in superlatives

forget myself, as I would often do

but it appears you met her, again years ago,

and she quoth, that´s your Gilbert, e´erything is true!

V

I must confess, I found a photograph of thine

a Torso when you were full in thy bloom,

in youth´s and beauty´s prime

it does adorn my mobile´s background now,

whereas I do not stalk you, I do vow

But have not I been then in flower´s budding

and have foreshadowed my downturn perhaps

though might have you in this scenes of unmarred laughter

have as companion, I would happy be

but since it was not so, my happiness,

lies in my eyes, when they set sight upon

your semblance or th´reality of thine

To meet again, shall be my own acclaim!

VI

And when thou art there, let us state a fact

to age in e´erytone´s presence seems no act