Sonnet, Love's All In The After Hours Poem by Peter S. Quinn

Love's all in the after hours I assume,
Like beautiful inspiring mood from inside,
The milder descending ingrowing bloom
That within the roots of the heart will hide;
Unburdened with any ascending hope
Striped down to faintly roots there grown,
The mountain that peaks and handles the rope:
Gives me courage - shows me, I am not alone.

I confess, my heart is beating fairly proud,
Permitting no weeping from love away,
Sometimes seeing no paths in front of me;
Like everything has its existence endowed,
For all what will come - disappear or stay,
I know what I feel isn't all what I see.