I Count On Your Love
Italian sonnet
How deep thy love for me, so very broad
One cannot miss the peace that calms the eyes.
With grace and joy and patience, I surmise
Thy sweet love’s a virtue, I can applaud.
The love I offer thee is surely flawed,
Sincere but juvenile, a compromise.
Might I grow in love fed by one so wise?
I count on thee, my lovely goldenrod.
Thine is the flower my love needs to mature
to help me emulate thine eloquence.
Bright goldenrod, thy medicine can cure
raw jealousy and pride and reticence
which stay my feelings, make me insecure.
Thy hand I take to gain my confidence.
written 13 February 2016
a response to
Elizabeth Barret Browning's
How Do I Love Thee, Let Me Count the Ways
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