Sonnet

Sonnet

The sullen night does prod me wake, and bids    
Me rise and follow  sweetest thoughts divine,     
Till I the celestial darkness soar amid                 
To clasp my love and claim your soul as mine.
New York, Buffalo, Detroit to Ann Arbor
O’er quiet towns, nestled in somnolent attire,
I span the miles in magic flight, before
The dawn doth rise, my vision to acquire.

Your sleeping form at last I behold
Your moonlit face and hair a pillowy mass,
Such beauty, is a treasure more than gold
To me no mortal woman could surpass.

But distance dissolves not magically
Without you must I uncontended be.