13-The Unlucky Sonnet Poem by Anthony D Bailey

Dedicated to Annie S

I doubt such beauty could wish any ill,
On a kind and living soul unjustly,
Nor even warranted cause, change thy will,
As thou eyes hold compassion devoutly.
Yet a curse thou bestowed on this person,
Fittingly perhaps, for we are impure,
Nonetheless, for these wounds thy blame is none,
As presence alone is cause to injure.
Though this spirit suffers not for their vice,
But for a loss, yet without thy love won,
If time could be conveyed, time would suffice,
And trek to whence their tale should have begun.
Though nothing to offer but heart and soul,
Before these were offered, these thou did stole.

(July 09)