The First

Herewith, a sonnet my aim is to write
To fill his heart with joy and love to keep
Instead of laying by his side this night
While he, with gentle snoring, falls asleep

Perhaps this is the only way to reach
His mind, his heart, his soul, his flirty wink
For others find a way his words to leech
His blood-like ink upon their page to drink

A picture tells a thousand words, ’tis said
Yet I a challenge make to this cliche
With pictures, ne’er an agile mind is fed
Only with odes to breathe in deep he’ll play

Heed well these words if you would wish to be
The one for whom the first love’s poetry

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