There’s something I forgot – I dropped it on the way to school.
It’s lost now, covered by the snow, and never to be found.
The very thing I lost is buried in these whitish mounds
and stubbornly stays buried in its snowy tomb.
I look up at the blazing sky and feel like quite the fool.
I’ve known this thing before perhaps – perhaps it’s still around,
or left back at the house – perhaps it’s lost back at the town?
The thing confounds me with its game. Its riddle’s strange and cruel.
Perhaps you’ve lost a twin to mine – a spool of thought escaping.
When reckless, threads pop through your head and drift off to the snow.
And though you search and search, it’s somewhere else– that much you know.
But where, exactly? Was it critical, this thing?
Or something trivial? I walk away and hope my brain’s
intact, or other things will spill and make me more inane.
i like that you are writing these sonnets - daily- primo challenge.
ReplyDeletesonnet ccciv - cool how the gazer deconstructs
the painting.
Hi Nadege,
ReplyDeleteThis actually isn't a daily challenge. Thanks for visiting! This is not actually based on a real painting, but on a piece of music I heard. So you're right - the gazer does construct the painting in their imagination.