A Blood Blue Bonnet

This Is an english sonnet that I wrote a couple months ago, it was my first try with this type of poetry.

A young lady sits in a chair, a blood blue bonnet upon her head.

That bonnet, big and floppy, with a white bow too.

A young lady so tired and weary longs for bed.

But sits and waits for her lover, tried and true.

 

Who is her lover? You might ask yourself, the answer is none.

That one young lady just sits and waits all night and day.

The blood blue bonnet girl, hair in a tight bun.

Sitting in a chair, hard and cold, trying to keep her heart at bay.

 

That young lady, eyes glued to the window.

A sudden shuffle of footsteps and a passing shadow.

Standing now, still in her hat, walks on tiptoe.

No one is there, not a trace of her fellow.

 

A dying girl, still alone in the dark with her bonnet.

Now this story is over, an end to this sonnet.