Many times I have watched those graceful hands
The purest white I’ve yet to find again
Nothing can compare within this mortal land
And by my side I wish them to be lain.
These hands so large they could protect my own
And fingers long, much magic they have spun
Pleaseth my own hands never to be alone
A surprise that no fair girl’s heart they’ve won.
Much innocence the possessor must behold
These heaven-sent white wings fly through my head
I look upon them as rich pools of gold
And all others are the dullest grey of lead.
How I long to touch that warm and pale skin
I wonder if you know the state I’m in.
***
This is my first sonnet, so I'd be really grateful for your honest opinions, and any criticisms you might have. Cheers.
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