Intro: Before the Fleeting Hour

An hour, a minute, found,
Rescued from stone or clay or dust,
Something that cannot be denied.

Something here follows that my sweetheart found in a letter I wrote.  I do not remember writing the following sonnet.  I must have been in some sadly altered state of conciousness.  It was like reading it for the first time.   An amazing experience to realise I wrote it.

Advertisements

Insults Make Me Happy:

Please log in using one of these methods to post your comment:

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 )

Google+ photo

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

Connecting to %s