Sonnet 555

Where rests sweet love when we impassioned are
By petty piques that dearest hearts defame
As nimbus hulks block lights of shining stars
And conjures up a dank cold chilling rain;
Soon angry waves upraised by distant fetch
Do raze their rancor on the stone cragged shore
As if dumb rocks were but a hapless wretch,
By site alone to bear that fearsome scorn.
So where hides hope when darkness damns the sun
While gales lay siege to twist and tear the trees?
There salty spume white fingers rake the strand
To mark in flotsam, scars of vain debris—
There withered hope survives to yet cling on
The stoutest stones that love lies based upon.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

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