Katherine Braithwaite Poet Sonnet

A Cracked Bowl

He loved my  beauty, not my wandering mind.
In fact ,he preferred me to be near mute
I knitted Mobius strips whilst intertwined.
And listened to his voice as to a flute.


I soon grew tired of hearing his   crazed  views
I found a man who liked to hear me speak.
Until I mentioned I owned  ten green shoes.
Bottles yes,but shoes made me a freak


Then I found a man who never spoke.
He listened with a kind,inviting smile.
I would have liked to test him with a joke.
But feared I might then harm his utter guile

.
Formidable the quest to  match one’s soul.
Instead I’ll keep it here in a cracked bowl

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