I want not to leave nor live without thou;
the days do come to I very undone.
Love is thou rose: painful yet it so beau.
Pain, none so far, is now in summer’s bloom.
Doom, to I, justifies the truth to this:
Love is joy and love is hurt- both ways pass.
But though love is doom, I know I not miss
the chronic substance of living love’s mass.
Love, shall I vow not to leave ’til I die?
Or shall myself die now to be with thou
eternally: life on the farthest side?
This, I shall not know; though, to you I’ll go.
I vow to this sonnet that I shall love
thee: until the earth shall crash from above.
This sonnet is written in April 2011.
(C) 2015 Niobe Falls
Image credits: www.layoutsparks.com/