Sonnet

You are the quenching of my every drought,
Awaited music to my sound-parched ears
Beknighted slayer of my deepest fears
Who wicked ghosts of loneliness drives out

My love declaring with a lusty shout
Ashamed not to display these Joy-springed tears
Nor promise all my intervening years
I offer you once more this troubled lout

Amazed, as ever, your love to receive
Yet sure, from time before time yours to find
From sentenced solitude to win reprieve
And reconstruct one separated mind

My own so-long-lost other self retrieve
We Into one essential selfhood bind.