Edward Schmitz Poet Sonnet

Under the Oak

Her nails were as red as a new born babe
Her eyes blue like the summer sky
We used to picnic under the great oak's shade
Him, my mother and I

We'd laugh for joy and talk and play
As free and light as a flowing breeze
Now I recall those simpler days
When I rest beneath the great oak trees

I struggle as the memories fade
And when I visit I sometimes cry
As I rest under the great oaks shade
Alone, my mother and I

May there come a lasting peace
Beyond this land, in life's release

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