Sonnet #1 An Ode to my First Love

Destined for exile atop dusty shelves

aroma of pages, old and new

Into Authors mind one deeply delves

permits any reader to silently pass through

Six and twenty letters laid out

words toyed with ’til resonating awe

similarities of prosaists throughout

write of love affairs in perfection and flaw

Perfect like you and marred like me

forever be, but read once, maybe twice

As I sit and read under a still living tree

I imagine knowledge must come at some price

One must care for books, it is without lie

for every book made, a tree must then die

© Suzi Yammouni


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