Sonnet 1

Upon this slowly turning sphere,

My heart in haste beats quick and clear.

With eager wings unfurled to soar,

Yet fearful to touch the open door.

Such twisted fate has curled its hand,

Left me adrift, no chart, no land,

Within this dreamworld's gentle part,

Where you reside—oh, sweet my heart.

For love's allure, it draws me near,

To you, the one I hold most dear.

As if from heaven's choir above,

Angels sing of this boundless love.

Yet time, it weaves its steadfast art,

Binding close, yet far apart.

When shall the day arrive, at last,

When distance fades into the past?

Together then, no more to roam,

In love's embrace, we'll find our home.

Until that hour, we'll yearn and chart

The course to merge our kindred heart.