To be or not to be...

a cliche.  This is a sonnet I had to write for one of my English classes.  While it's not something I normally write, I liked the sound of it.  It is true Shakespearean form.

Oh sorrow filled eyes begin to show the pain.

My petite mouth bows; forms but cannot speak.

His brown eyes shimmer like an afternoon creek.

Posture carries the secure playful vein.

Lack of power fills no interest feigned.

Strange fascination, part of his mystique.

Attraction is fierce, my resolute weak

From his questioning glance. I must abstain.

For him I ride upon a great dark horse.

Giving over to the power of Fate.

Swallowing pride, I submit and I force.

emotions to the surface; Am I late?

Breathe slowly, stop, look shy, and wait a while.

One final glance into his face and smile.