Your lover mornings,
are now my nights,
Evening and glden hues,
Mark the start of a lover's fight.
Then kiss my eyes to sleep,
So they do not see,
The beauty of Your eyes,
And the aphrodite affront me.
And if your days are nights,
And your nights are long,
Let the nightingales grounded by love,
Sing its woe song.
As song of woe wraps your ears,
it is my kiss that wraps you,
Were no amount of time could surfeit, not yours,
Neither a millenium nor an eternity of you.
Author notes
Part of C sonnets.
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