Yr odour is of myrrh
It overwhelms me that I want
To make love to you
But no choice, because of the others
I cannot resist staring at you
Like a shooting star I wish upon every glance
I spend my nights quietly
Composing sonnets, I hope you'll read
Though, I get tongue-tied when you call me in
And runaway in tears after
I feel stupid when I do
Because I want you to see my words
I am frightened to say them
So, privately, they are tuck in my notebook