She saw my grief behind hesitant smile,
Love behind rage that spilled some wrathful bile,
A child’s pretence hind a put-on profile,
And saw honesty under my raw guile.
She loved me for being more than a friend,
Around home a readily helping hand,
A resort close by, not on far island—
Resort, her tired soul wherein loved to mend.
Too bad, two kindred souls when get married,
The friendship of friends seldom gets carried
To be a husband or wife much harried,
Rare still, the old love gets all but buried.
And what happens to former loving friends?
Maybe, as husband, well, the man husbands.
_____________________________________
Sonnet |44.12.2020| friends, marriage
Poet’s note: Is it the expectations of give and take that makes a mighty difference? This sonnet opts to end with a flippant tongue-in-cheek end, but it does hint at a likely root cause.
to stay away
this i must say
let us know
as you go
thats your ok
not hide be hind a wall
so don't stall
JUST CALL
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