What causes love to hammer at my heart?
What need for a result to procreate?
What meteorite has pierced me with its dart?
What bells are chiming there to contemplate? 4
It’s not a god who calls me to repent
And not my conscience that demands my clone,
Nor did the bees demand me to attend
To call you just because I am alone. 8
Yes you, the girlish woman of my dreams
Whose every cell projects perfection’s choice,
Where you exist within your smiles and schemes 12
To wear the queen’s tiara for your poise.
You are the cause and the effect of all;
The epitome’s existence, to enthrall.
© Joe Lake
From Joe Lake’s Songs Of Love
(contemplative sonnets)
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