:This is the last of my Sonnets written on that fateful night:
I leave this poem in my will
So you may read it when I'm gone
One day I'll choke, or else fall ill,
Or fade away on winters long.
I must have felt my feelings wrong
This urge to reach, your hand to take.
My self control was just too strong
Or was it fear that made me weak?
This poem's seal will never break
Until I'm washed to heaven's sea
And when in heaven I awake
They'll come along to question me:
"Any regrets?" I'll say: "Just one."
And if you read this poem, "None."