Sonnet #19: Sent Anonymously

Rare are the days, but precious, that I know
A glimpse of you. Enshrined behind your glass,
You will not see me standing far below—
So in my daily pilgrimage I pass
Just once, in hope to satisfy these eyes
And thirsting heart, that drink you in like wine.
Challenge me once to put off this disguise,
Kiss me with your soft mouth, and you would find
Ecstatic warmth in my embrace.... I weep
No tears, of course, for though I press no claim,
Dream on I shall, both waking and asleep,
Offering lover's tokens in this game
Fatal and fond; and prudent silence keep
Forevermore—unless you call my name.

November 13, 1993

Copyright ©1999 by Erica Schultz Yakovetz. All rights reserved.
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