Love Sonnet 177

Count it my pleasure to behold your eyes, 

As my future therein, I used to see, 

None as wondrous did nature yet devise, 

That was endeared by half as much, to me; 

The special twinkle that there so I find, 

In manner of speech so purely its own, 

Speaks to my heart, as though bent to remind, 

That love, it has worn ever since as crown; 

No measure applies how feelings are gauged, 

Nor waiting constrained in a sense of time, 

Whilst I race the clock, I felt so enraged, 

At eternity spent with every chime; 

........My pleasure now waits for wishes given, 

........Always, a Hell of a wait for Heaven.