Sonnet I
Another wasted winter morning sleep
without a kiss upon my frozen cheek.
For you, my love, do not you count the sheep,
Before engaged in promptly what you seek.
The day does seem so monotone and long
with winds of torment chilling human bone
No flame nor fire could provoke such song
between my heart and head, neither alone
The winter day is doubly frigid cold
Without the sun's relieving touch an' glow
And night forgets your beauty does behold
more warmth than a thousand stars could bestow
Enwrap, entice, be my warm able crutch
And please enlighten my numb fingers' touch
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