Note: Thirty-three years ago, I began writing poetry. From time to time, generally between blog series, I like to share one with you. Today's poem I wrote to my wife on Valentine's Day in 2006. Stay tuned; a new blog series launches next week.
Sonnet XIII
Not long ago I lived a lonely life
Cloistered within a few square feet of room;
A cot and bookshelf, forlorn chair, my doom,
Apt illustrations of the missing wife.
I harked from morn to night without a clue
Of all that I was missing out upon;
Not long ago I lived a lonely life
Cloistered within a few square feet of room;
A cot and bookshelf, forlorn chair, my doom,
Apt illustrations of the missing wife.
I harked from morn to night without a clue
Of all that I was missing out upon;
Romance and beauty fled from me, were gone,
Of chief delights I had but some small few.
And then - I shook your hand that summer day.
And then - I shook your hand that summer day.
Soon everything in life turned upside down;
My spartan forlorn loneliness turned gay,
My brown sackcloth lost to a wedding gown.
Now, Mandy, Jack, and Emma share my name.
Now, Mandy, Jack, and Emma share my name.
My life? I am so glad 'tis not the same!
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| My family c 2006 |