Love Sonnet 125: ' No Halo Hangs Above Your Flaxen Hair' Poem by Reyvrex Questor Reyes

No halo hangs above your flaxen hair,
Your faults are looking not that grave to me,
For saints make glaring all the sins I bear,
And could make me appear a devil be;
If touched with cherished heavenly sweet love,
Such as obtained under angelic wings,
Might my reply be deemed low from above,
And hurt, if not despair, to me it brings;
But dare I tread where angels love to tread,
As fools, when wiser now, are fools no more,
To sense that Heaven's gate lies just ahead,
Hell can become a boarded up closed door;
......We, too, might merit halos, bright, someday,
......Eternity is not that far away.