The blades of grass cut through my fingers,
scraping like bone on a chalkboard.
Long days grow longer,
like a Keats sonnet come to life
in the summertime’s furious heat.
Delirious and deliberate, I circle in the sun,
arms outstretched, my head tilted to the ombré sky.
I spin in circles of changing proportions
until my shadow is swallowed by the shade
of the Sycamore trees.
The leaves crunch beneath my feet,
creating a desiccated and delicious aroma
that only comes once a year—
unwavering, unlike your love,
which fluctuates with the tide.
Am I a circle in the sand?
Will I be washed away in time?
Never whole again, as I was in the beginning—
a blank slate lying in wait
until my stars align again.
I miss your smile the moment that we part,
Once more I am alone and incomplete,
And emptiness again claims to my soul.
The pulse of life lies dormant in my heart,
A lonely heart has no reason to beat,
As tears leave stains beneath my crying eyes
Until the time your kiss can make me whole.
I am surely struck by old Cupid’s dart,
Since now I hunger for the days we meet;
For love touches all like an oversoul,
It’s in the seas and high above the skies,
And love’s beauty blossoms from the ground.
Our parting, love, may leave my breath in sighs
But all I have to do is look around.
Form: Keats' Sonnet
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