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A sonnet inspired by a modern sonnet writer, whose name unfortunately evades me. |
| Of all the A joy never lends me its company No glory divine, no best friends benign No birds to sing at my sill, not any A chilling wind that poisons my gladness A darkness and emptiness that haunts me The sun so harsh it bakes my sunglasses The wind so cold, it won’t let me be But sometimes in my suffering, horrid hate I see a light shining bright very near Like a twist and turn by the muse of Fate You are there, and you wash away my fear A rope to hold me above the water, You hold my hand, and I cannot falter |