Sonnet 1

A canvas high and felt traced tips With background broad and tint azure None posed in space with limbs being clipped The sketch of liberty one saw When pillars then in holes are tucked Sore eyes in Gaya’s comfort seek While plumes of sentiment are plucked Love lingers on in love’s mystique Time let the warble low to swoop And beak like marble gloss to shine Thoughts flicker on life’s endless stoep In tandem with the sun that mimes That morn when words and wheels are cleansed Found true and veiled in mortal condensed. Thabiso Nkoana©2013-04-21