A new October sonnet

Here's a recent sonnet for your consideration.


past times

For ev'ry day there is a span of twen-
ty-four in hours; and ev'ry year does hold
three-hundred sixty-five of days -- so when
there is a special time, perhaps enrolled
in less than e'en a single hour, our thought
converts those moments into memory,
to be enshrined where treasured scenes are caught
and well-preserved within our minds. We see
with lover's eyes and hear with lover's ears
and touch with loving hands, caressing and
possessing all we share when sighs and tears
give testament to rapture. We expand
the place where these are kept, and I review,
to feel again these wondrous times with you.