Sonnet

My darling, you have always asked me why,
Whenever we sit in warm summer fields
Drinking you in as your kisses I steal,
I have never written you poetry.
And often I have said its just because
I was not blessed with words from high above.
Alas, I hate to say, I lied my love,
I was shielding you from the truth. So pause
While I reveal my thoughts. You drive me mad
With constant moaning and whining and your
Incomp'tence. Though I love you, I implore
You, change your ways you dashing lover-lad.
If this be error and upon me proved
I never writ, nor no man ever loved.