Sonnet 1 Poem by jhowel mendoza

Shall I suppress this trodden feeling?
The fearful bliss of sudden trimming.
The wild thing that grows little a day,
When I see her walking hard a day.
My digress and wanders a far
To think that I am a fool by far;
And, afraid of losing my own delight,
That sheeds of burning passion, bright.
May I love her by the time elapse
But the fervor in my chest never collapse.
To face the face the truth is a human deed
For if she love another, no matter indeed.
Truely, this love a year- long yearn real,
Not on a dress, or coat, my love is frilled.