Lovesick Sonnet

No stomach and an ever waking night,
I pass the hours pining for the morn.
Its dawning holds a promise doubly bright,
As rise of sun will light my hopes reborn.
And still these hopes–held captive days of late
By actless thoughts and fickle turns of chance–
May yet remain imprisoned, begging fate
To favor them with kinder circumstance.
So sits ambition like an unsprung rose
Unblossomed yet, but eager for the hour
When will itself defeats my doubtful woes
And bud bursts forth to yield my fancy’s flower.
        But as I stumble toward such sweet success,
        The magic grows amidst my fond distress.

Photo courtesy of Monstera at Pexels.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s