Sonnet VII/VI

Nights are restless when I have thoughts of her,

She that’s many a mile away from me.

How awkward t’is indeed I could not bear

I dwindle here thinking ‘bout gaiety.

Should I be forlorn the rest of my days?

Nay be depressed t’is unfit for an ode

Thus I’ll think she’s in a flower filled dais.

May the gods be kind, may I not forebode

To hasten my demise. Still need to see,

May I have another opportune time

To be in a place same as she treads.

Sorrow filled existence do turn to glee

If this weary bard be given the chance

With fair young lady in the great hall dance.

Reviews

[Everett DeValle]

Enjoyed the couplets in your sonnet...I'm a firm believer that things happen for a reason, however, I'm also more of a believer of making things happen. I hope he gets chance for a dance. :)