Sonnet 909


Awakening the senses that did rest
Reminding me I was indeed alive;
He came to me and fixed this mournful mess
And set my mind alight with sweet surprise.
Where hope had died, there now was hopeful glee;
And where was sorrow, sat a mended place;
Our words they worked without the need to plea;
And shoulders they were freed of heavy weights.
So where’d he been and how could he be here?
Could not another woman keep him tight?
His voice is music playing in my ear;
As songs be sung he makes the wrongs be right.

I look outside and see the world anew;
With life and love created by my muse.








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