Sonnet VII

Never have the stars looked so pale and plain;

I haven’t half the heart to look up.

My heart will not sing the same notes again

As once it did from the mountain tops.

Love’s low sweet breeze does not come this way twice;

What fool am I to seek it in this place?

And in its place, the wind of love’s demise

Comes sweeping its confectionery ways

Off to distant lowlands and the seas,

Consumed by creatures big and terrible

And wash to shore to the roots of the trees;

Not in my hands are they ever to fall. 

   High and low, wherever fate doth brings me,

   I will not see love’s face, if it kills me. 

Sonnet VII

May 13, 2021

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