Thursday, December 28, 2006

A Sonnet of Remembrance

vii.

She came from Michigan, East Lansing.
Her father was a professor out there.
I was young and she was young and fancy-
free were we. She loved the wind in her hair,
Deep chestnut, and cut short all around,
Framing dark pools and delicate brown eyes,
Which like hot fires, ever gazing I found
So mysterious, sensous and wise.
'Twas like this, you see, when first came to me
The darkness which even now I'm stricken.
To her whom I'd never wish misery
Her sweet joy it did strangle and sicken.
And so from here to a big college town
she was gone, and in the darkness I drowned.
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