To Shakespeare, With Love


When into the west Apollo has gone
And the depths of night surround me
I am found in the shadows waiting there
For my love and lord to appear

During the day I only sleep dreaming
Wishing I could but stand by his side
I awake at night to find him there
His presence that I hath sensed close, so near

I cannot help but fall into the depths
Of entrancing gaze from angelic eyes
Darkness and fire lit by passion fill them
Burning all fear and doubt from my mind

His lips hold mine with the force of tempests
Breathing into them the breath without which
I must suffocate from hopeless despair
That the tempest that was mine has been calmed

Hands hold tight and skin clings desperately
As though they might never touch so again
The hair that cascades around mine shoulders
Into unknown places it twists and winds

Mine heart hath flown above the high mountains
With the wings that he hath lent me to fly
Yet tis not weighed by Cupid’s arrow
For mine love is returned with his own

My beloved lord hath conquered mine heart
For he wields the language of love
As though Aphrodite hath blessed his quill
To write words into music so sweet

Who should dare sayeth, “Do not fall in love?”
For then they hath not suffered such true love
Nor the free passion of one who is loved
For between us hell hath frozen over

At the door of forbidden dreams he stands
Beckoning closer with longing desire
When into the west Apollo has gone
And the depths of night surround me


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