(Liz Munro's Cliché Challenge)
Sonnet 4 (Love is like a rose)
An early morn like all before this one;
I found myself inside a wondrous place,
While pond'ring deeply mysteries long gone;
T'would seem as though I was beset by grace,
For lo behold; around a turn stood she;
A sight awakening an old desire!
For who did stand before myself, but glee?
I picked a rose to give this warming fire,
The nick of punctured skin awoke me then;
To feelings buried years and years ago,
Of course, she noticed this and left again;
The cut reminding me of smothered woe,
As I observed this case of scarlet flows,
I could conclude that love is like a rose.
Sonnet by Thomas Selnes
Read 1350 times
Editors' choice
Written on 2006-10-31 at 03:22
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