A November sonnet

I cannot help but think, when I am close to her

Oh place me there -- when they are linked and bound
inside the realm of passion -- when her face,
her fine facade of gorgeousness is crowned
with brilliant gems of ecstasy, when grace
is wound around necessity, and skin
exceeds the best express of fashion. Mind
expands appreciation, thinking in
these frankest terms, with unfulfillment find-
ing only my imagination where
my hands adore her glories, lips caress
her vessel and my adamance finds rare
acceptance in her heat. I could suppress
my nature, but her presence makes me weak,
and I desire to have what all men seek.