Feb 23


This is an "Acrostic Sonnet," a form of sonnet I learned from a friend of mine.

She planted a tree in silvery light
Hands pressing old soil as she shivered
Error marked the breeze of her lonely rite
Lauding what steady chant she delivered
Even the earliest of my instincts
Fade from Athena’s grasp in surrender
Torn to forget, barely born when she sinks
Tender arboress raped for her splendor
Heiress of air and the clouds and the sky
Engulf me in your woven birds’ nest hair
What walnut features knotted hands imply
In your laughter my memories ensnare
Nurture her planted tree rusting to brown
Denying not her tears nor scars nor crown