not a true sonnet but a Lawless Sonne.....
What happens when we use up all the words Tie up phrases to often spun Sit in chairs while wondering Why these spindly legs no longer run Have we lost sight of visions dawn Lost our souls amid a darkening day Cursed the butterfly to fly alone Believe the moment froze and so must stay As far away a crayoned hand awakes And on a crumpled page sees more than we For everything is new and bright and fresh For joy has found an open heart as nest Are words but inert beings in life’s race And we but weary poets giving chase
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