I am sitting in my Dorchester lair,
And behind the door I do feel your mien,
When my poetic muse is in the air,
You look real as life to me, “Amore Mio”.
When I am surfing on the internet,
You are there in my click I envisage,
I initiate to scribe a sonnet,
And lo! I see you embossed on the page.
Sighing, wry face, the lips as a dried leaf,
Your greenish deep eyes upraised fully,
Neither death kills me, nor does lonely life,
But your silence eats my soul and body.
Numb as a disease, I die of a thought,
My love, don’t you sense the same as I aught?
A Shakespearian sonnet in Iambic Pentameter (ABAB CDCD EFEF GG)
Contest: Loneliness 7Th place win