Michael Coy Poet Sonnet

The Eye of the Beholder

She’s getting more decrepit, by degrees.                        
Her heart is threatening to go on strike,
with kidneys out in sympathy.  She’s like
a mole without her glasses, and the knees,
now varicose, resemble Stilton cheese.
Her mouth works like an oxygen-starved pike
each time she reads.  A portrait by Van Dyck
would show more movement in its eyes than these.

But when I look at her, I see the girl,
the one I met that first time in the square,
bandana loosely swathing careless curls,
the little smile that made me stop and stare.
To me, she’s always lovely, always new:
for things there are that Time can not undo.

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Keith O.J. Hunt February 21, 2017 at 11:08 AM A beautiful tribute without judgment, the world needs more of you Michael. The heart which flows the waterfall.... Michael Coy February 24, 2017 at 8:44 AM That's a mighty compliment, Keith. Thank you!

Daniel Turner February 18, 2017 at 10:07 AM I love this sonnet, Michael. Well done! Michael Coy February 18, 2017 at 4:25 PM Daniel, thank you so much! I appreciate your encouragement.

Darren White February 18, 2017 at 9:35 AM Aww, this is beautiful. I hope that one day someone will look at me with eyes that remember who I once was... Michael Coy February 18, 2017 at 4:25 PM My partner is not as hideous as described in the poem, but I definitely see her as she was, not as she is. That's love, I guess!

Phil Capitano February 18, 2017 at 7:53 AM Beautiful Michael, the way we remember is important; keep her young in your heart and she will always be there. Michael Coy February 18, 2017 at 8:13 AM Delightful words, Phil. I'm grateful.