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Monday, June 8, 2009


The sweet caress of summer sunlight sneaks
its way into the hearts of men. We lay
with simple pleasure in the light, and play
in greener fields, until our new techniques
and secret jokes are mastered. Light barely peaks
above the trees- we wave goodbye, and day
becomes the night. Again we chase away
our cares, till eyelids droop and Sandman speaks
of sweeter dreams. And while we softly sleep,
our skin (in honor of the sun) does shade
itself in newer colors. When we wake,
we laugh and say that red and brown can keep
their place (except your red, of course, which fades).
So welcome, summer; what you give, we'll take.

(a/b/b/a/a/b/b/a, c/d/e/c/d/e)
The first sonnet was wishing for summer to come, and this is the sonnet for after summer comes. I suppose that's what it is, at least.

1 comment:

alia said...

i am so jealous of your sonnet-writing skills.

it seems i have a million questions to ask you. but at the same time, it's just a million answers. i'm sure that doesn't quite make sense... i'm prepared to bear my soul, but at the same time it seems unnecessary because you already know. it's like words mock the solid, natural contract. this way of existing. but words are all i have. and yet they strangle me.

do you understand? does this even make sense? ignore that last question, it doesn't matter if it makes sense or not.

it's almost 4 am and i've had lots and lots of tea. and drugs were thrown in somewhere.

we need to discuss life and other silly things sometime because my list of human contacts seems to be dwindling. and you seem to have a good mind.

lol this is madness.