A Pupil Of Love (Sonnet #224) Poem by Tina Baaklini

I whisper your name to the trees to breathe
You in the air, I whisper it to the moon
To fill the sky with tender symphonies.
My soul's mantra you are, you make her bloom.

In love, I'm the pupil, you're the school,
Little did I know what love really means.
Love is to cherish, honor as a rare jewel
Our soulmate with whom we share a love pristine.

O Love, your unwavering devotion
Blossomed my inner world with rosy hues,
You sow in my heart blissful emotions
And touch my soul with a love known by few.

I still learn from you about love's mysteries,
An alchemy that turns droughts into seas.

Copyright ©️ Tina Rizk