Sonnet I
But he loves me not,
Or so he says and claims;
But moments, though few, will not be forgot
Like the laughs, the kiss, and sweet names.
"Why don't you love me, sweet James?"
Why deny a flame so heated?
A portrait perfect for golden frames;
An image of King and Queen on a golden shrine seated.
No longer will the salty tears be repeated,
In due course you will utter, "I love you".
Love like this, my dear, cannot be meted
And so, in death even, we'll start anew.
A flame of love so fierce,
Like a dagger, you, my heart did pierce.
Written by: Arlana Panduleni Shikongo
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