How wonderful you are, dear Nellie, young
with energy and beauty both to spare,
deserving of a sonnet's rapture, sung
to your sweet charms to which no one's compare.

And yet beyond your eyes of tender light;
beyond your lips, set soft, and soft your face;
your hair like strands of Heaven wove from night
that darns the dark in lustered wisps of grace...

Beyond your bright and loveliest detail,
I see, within, a girlish spirit, grown;
and gazing at you, I, a humble male,
must marvel at the woman I am shown.

The fault is mine and not men's eyes, dear Nell,
if this has failed to move men's hearts as well.

 © Michael D. Petti

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