Still raw, but I may polish it more over the next few weeks.



Sonnet 2/6/2019 On the Dentzel Carousel, Glen Echo MCCLXVII

I go around, and return to the start,
But feel great calmness on this carousel.
Soul finds ease in the memories, to tell
My dreams I cannot give past muse my heart.
It's not just that she will not value art,
But that she thinks thought of her casts no spell
To give true verse: For that, heart bids farewell.
That is the reason I must from hopes part.
I cannot alter words, nor change her mind
To restore what has shattered: Should I send
My dreams to Lethe, or now try to find
Some kinder muse? Is there a balm, to mend
The wound this angel sent my heart, or bind
A soul broken from inspiration's end?