Love Sonnet 65: My Love, Life Is A Jest, And Strange Enough
My love, life is a jest, and strange enough,
Of all its ironies, choose the kindest,
And know when to confide, or when to bluff,
Of all its murmurs, choose which shouts, loudest;
Love is bee, flaunting nectar it has scoured,
With proboscis for honey to entrain,
But at the other end, when love has soured,
Is sting, that leaves behind very much pain;
But love of mine is pure, as you will find,
No more simple or hard for you to think,
If all my thoughts lend to corrupt your mind,
Like Socrates, I must of hemlock drink;
……Think not these things as bait that hides the hook,
……For all is square, and all done by the book.
poem by Reyvrex Questor Reyes
Added by Poetry Lover
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