Sonnet 144

I remember you when sweet breaths of spring.
Burst forth from feathered flowers in their joy,
Proclaiming death to winter and to bring,
That blush of green upon brown faded moors.
In nacent life my thoughts of love do rise
Like fresh beginnings on which praise may grow,
With all pink promise that proud hope contrives
And with glad bounty vernal loves suppose.
In truth, fate robbed me of such precious bliss,
Like spring born blossoms razed by thundered might;
True love assured, now ever gone amiss,
Your golden grace forever fled from sight.
Though birds still sing and buds swell on the vine,
Rare joy in this does my heart ever find.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

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