For My Girl
A sonnet
Published in
Apr 5, 2023
Her hair is a soft delight to my brow
Our foreheads meet and two worldviews find rest
With patience she overlooks my stern scowl
I am grateful she chose now to attest
the fidelity burning in my heart somehow
when conditioning says I’m like the rest
I must find my soft tender voice I vow
may the instinct of this brute be recessed
As the bitter cold harshness of winter
concedes and springs gentle warmth makes progress
I am so glad that I may present her
With rhythms that match the beat in my chest
this poor sonnet that scarce represents her
and hope her charity declares it blessed.
