| Sonnet No. 3 |
| What is it that would drive a man to tell The sun to cease its journey through the sky? Or guide him to the darkest pit of hell And give the damned souls angel's wings to fly? Only love, damned love, tricky love, does this. Teasing like a carrot before his face, He follows, hoping to find true love's kiss Or being guided to his love's embrace. No such luck! Love slithers like a serpent Away from its victim, into the ground. Like a rainbow, the sky's colourful rent Of which the end is hunted but not found. How frustrating love is! But I dare say, No sane man would want it another way. |
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