lying on the asphalt.
Another time would find us – live –
upon a grassy hill of beryl,
conversing as the time flies by.
We’d daily meet beyond the meadow,
a pair concealed beneath a willow,
the shadows overhearing us –
our gossip of the latest fuss.
But who has time these days to chatter?
My strict routines keep feet a-patter;
and you’re just trying to survive,
amidst my world – besides -
You’re roadkill, dead upon the road,
your breast a purest ruby-gold.
365 Sonnets is completed! While there be no more new posts, feel free to read the sonnets and comment! :)
You can read my new poetry at Some Turbid Night: http://someturbidnight.blogspot.ca/ :)
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