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A Sonnet For Becca
Where once a gentle poet penned her heart,
we look upon a sad and empty page,
there - common thoughts became embellished art
and hungry thirst for passion was assuaged.
So oft our search for peace takes crazy turns
to where we find a tempest as we lay,
and not the kindred meadow that we yearn,
instead, a love that hate and wrath betray.
Yet, lingers there, a pensive hungry soul,
and from within that passion strives to sing;
so close to shore, so close the barren shoal -
perhaps she'll hear the harbor bells we ring.
She IS the poem, she IS the "Fire's Glow",
"The waves of pure intensity" that grow...
(The quotes in the couplet are from Becca's poem "I Am Poetry")
Copyright ©
Craig Cornish
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