Sonnet 327

A nascent lily rises from the ground,
Soft hailing thus the springtide of the year
While ruins of winter’s blight yet still abound,
Here now a pleasing chorus fills the air.
Fond hopes arising earlier each day
To warm the hearts of denizens who sing
The blessings of sweet life in buoyant praise,
Quite certain of the bounty song shall bring.
This is the time when all thought turns to love
And by such music, my mind turns to you,
Much like the minstrels borne on skies above
Who pour their souls out to the ones they woo.
But I who lack their skill if not their song,
Plead out in ink a love, if proved, more strong.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

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