Sonnets

My sonnets

Cherry

Early Spring

As winter’s grip constricts the countryside, And fearsome frosts descend to choke the land, Then all the florae in a final stand Do breathe their last and wither there to die.

Chasing Twilight

Her radiance overwhelms, as from the vale She peeks I shyly fade back into space; For as her sun doth shine, my moon, it pales So faint I’m nearly lost without a trace.