Sandbox

Imprisoned patched in pumpkin parachute,
Detained up-high by paper-airplane trails;
Vines draw a line through dirt urging dispute,
Between emotions locked in playground jails;

An epic battle waged of see-sawed thoughts,
Hacked anger versus calm forgiving tone;
Where punches land upon still tender spots,
From childish rants this bailiff claims as own;

Yet resolution now demands a shift,
As sonnets do when octaves run in place ;
I’m neither swing-set nor a schizoid miffed,
But grown-adult per hair seen on my face -

  Aware, at last, a patient mind unlocks,
     An end to quicksand fights inside a box


10/6/2016
Submitted for:  'Sandbox' Contest

perspectivesonnet

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