Sonnet #26

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If ever I'm a book let it be opened

passed down through ages parent to their child.

Read to themselves and joyfully their spoken,

sometimes see tears or many broadened smiles.

A cover I don't need so tear it up

down on the street I patiently will wait.

Just not forgotten in some pitied dump

where others rot alone without a face.

a romance blissed with pain and lovers' strain

the lovers are inside and bound to perish

in passion's constant burning flower's flame

on top of an unknown high up terrace.

    The last page reached with no one standing there

    On to other lives for romance shared.

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