Let Me In

Knock, knock, who's there, and art thou friend or foe?
Why knockest thou at this ungodly hour?
I am the Light, whose face and word you know
I bring you sheaves of blossom trees in flower
So many moons have passed since we last met
How shall I know that it is really you?
I am the Light no darkness can forget  
I bring you skies of bright and endless blue
Why comest thou, now I am nearly old
With fainting faith and blood flow slow and dry?
I am the Light, returning as foretold  
I bring you Life, to raise you true and high
How glad am I, to see you at my door
Come, cast your crazy sunbeams on my floor

by Gail

lightmysterynaturepsychologicalseasonssonnet

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Warren Dickman

February 27, 2016 at 10:43 AM

I may be wrong but I think this is only the second SEVEN I've handed out since coming to the soup. It isn't often I find a poem that is perfect in every way, and that's what a seven stands for: PERFECTION! The syllable count was even close to perfection with all lines having 10 except the the 4th. Great job, Gail, and the dialogue was also excellent. I could distinctly hear the two different voices in that conversation. I loved it.

Gail Foster

February 28, 2016 at 3:12 PM

Thank you so much for your comments. I guess if one must have an extra syllable or 'feminine ending' then 'flower' is a good word to do it with! So pleased you enjoyed it. All the best.