Tuesday, March 8, 2016

A sonnet in early March

she does not know her worth

The mysteries of time have not becloud-
ed my remembrances -- and I would not
want to forget a single moment, proud
or only ordinary, cold or hot,
mundane or blind spectacular -- and yet
I here admit I truly cherish most
your vividness of nudity. My debt
belongs to you, for acting as my host
and giving me incentive to reply
with avid affirmation, unrestrained
and recognizable; I could not try
to toss these memories -- they are ingrained
within the nature of my self, and stay
safe from the grind of time's erosive way.

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