Sonnet # 12

Am I deceiving my hopes when poems I write?
And when I think I could indeed be great?
Is not this false for my mind maybe not bright?
I`m calling my heart not to agitate!
So, you, please; read these lines and tell with truth:
The poet`s truthful to his curious eyes.
A smile says much about a person`s youth.
Is there in my mind learning that high flies?
You are the reader; tell in honesty;
I don`t have hands that write from a great mind.
But if you see some words in hormony,
Tell me I`m blind; my poem`s in wisdom kind.
Yes, mirth with me, I do knowledge revere.
But I turn sad if I don`t see me a seer.