Sonnet 328

You came to me like gentle breaths of spring
Reviving this dead soul from winter’s grip,
With all the pride and passion promise brings,
Fair sunshine smile, soft touch and song sung lips;
My memories of frost yet all too near,
Not knowing what to make of your sweet light,
To feel sap flow again wrested a tear
That I might shed the chains of gelid blight.
Hope is a flower, delicate and pure
That reaches forth from god forsaken earth,
Where with the power of beauty’s strength demure
From providence lost, does boast of bliss returned;
It is a timeless balm that that eases pain;
I look on you and all my woe does wane.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

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