i wrote this my senior year of high school while waiting for my dad to get out of a board meeting. it's a sonnet of sorts; with iambic meter. and no, helen isn't supposed to be anyone at all.
how can these women know of trust and faith
when they have never touched its ivory face?
how can these women speak of faith and trust,
who think that all desire must needs be lust?
they tell us (almost gladly) time will come,
that our warm hearts will all too soon grow numb,
that we'll no longer see with eyes of love,
and crow we shall perceive where once was dove.
i say they may be right; of what concern is that?
for you are there, though the body be old and fat,
i shall remember you e'er as you are tonight,
when in your glance my entire soul delights,
when my heart dances at the lightest touch of my belov'd,
when my soul cries in the ecstatic agony that is our love.
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