SONNET 116

secret to a healthy relation

Let us not pretend marriage equals love.

Admit intelligence, understand this.

For much like a hand that fits a suade glove,

Real love transcends the status quo abyss:

Oh yes!  It does not wither with time

That kills those that fake in marriage relations;

Its resonant ring for every bell that chimes,

This melody en masse trounces stagnation.

Love’s not prevalent in the public eye

Where much irreparable harm is done:

It flourishes underneath the starry sky,

Enduring every catastrophe which comes.

If in error one is proved otherwise,

Question the source first, maybe it’s a lie.