Sonnet 8 'In Honor of My Wife'

How Audacious, I, to think: “I’ll make a book…” To think that some will love to read my rhymes. Approval’s a path I long ago forsook… But still, I love to share my words, sometimes… Because I hope the anguish we all feel, By being read in me, helps some feel heard… Because Joy is a Leaven in the Meal, Because I hurt, and cannot heal – absurd? I lost my wife, and never brought her home, And I am broken, sundered… my hope is shed, And so, I write, and hope I’m not alone, That I can make her Live, still, though she’s dead. And so, I think I’ll make my book for HER, And to God’s kind Judgment, I will defer…