A Sonnet of Desire

Queenofscots_portrait

Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?

No, that’s been writ already by The Bard;

I sought to scribe thy beauty in some way,

Yet finding choice words even now proves hard. 

I view a regal portrait of a Queen:

It shows a cool and formal countenance. 

I seek the woman’s heart that is not seen, 

The giddy sweetness not grasped at first glance. 

Passing glimpses have I had of this 

Through sly, enticing words that prick and tease; 

Her Grace has even deigned my lips to kiss, 

A fleeting pleasure, gone like morning’s breeze. 

For consummation this poor subject yearns, 

Sensing Passion ‘neath her portrait burns.