Sonnet 32

Who would ever believe what 'tis I write?

Who could see how bright you are, my bright star?

For every sonnet is like the night,

It could never convey how fair you are.

They couldn't hear your melodious songs,

They can't imagine an angel's face,

And that no other love could last so long,

Or know every touch makes my heart race.

But, the future would not believe in me,

They'd call me a love drunk poet that lies,

Most people won't believe what they can't see,

However, they'd be in for a surprise.

  My "lies" are the truth, I write what I see,

  And you shall live on in my poetry.

Author's Note

In case you don't understand lines 3 and 4 it means my sonnet is like the night, because you can't truly see anything at night for what it is...because it's dark.