Sonnet 555

Where lies sweet love when we impassioned are
By petty piques that dearest hearts defame,
As nimbus hulks block lights of shining stars
To rouse and rile a thunder scolded rain;
Soon angry waves incensed by distant fetch
Do rage their rancor on the stone cragged shore
As if dumb rocks were but some hapless wretch,
By pure mischance to bear that fearsome scorn.
So where hides hope when darkness damns the sun
While gales lay siege to twist and tear the trees,
When salty spume white fingers rake the strand
To flay in flotsam, scars of vain debris—
There withered hope survives to yet cling on
The stoutest stones that love e’re rested on.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

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