That Smirk Behind Your Smile

It looks to me like a garden all smiles, Not an isolate smile stuck on an isle— Like an oasis spread as if for miles, It's smile of a flower that hath no guile. No loud laugh, nor a derisive thunder Of a victor vanquishing with ways vile, Nor of a robber ready to plunder, One of a kind, I love its unique style. Your smile has the power to pin me under, Melting my pent up rage, wiping all bile, Breaks down the held-back reserve asunder, And all my complaints collapse in a pile. One little thing's about that lethal smirk, That behind your sweet smile often does lurk. ______________________________________________________ A man seems so much worked up on his wife's smile that he says all that he has to in one breath, and using only two rhymes for twelve lines of this sonnet. A Volta comes in the couplet that uses one more rhyme. ______________________________________________________ Sonnets | 01.04.06 |