Sonnet 1
A canvas high and felt traced tips
With background broad and tint azure
None posed in space with limbs being clipped
The sketch of liberty one saw
When pillars then in holes are tucked
Sore eyes in Gaya’s comfort seek
While plumes of sentiment are plucked
Love lingers on in love’s mystique
Time let the warble low to swoop
And beak like marble gloss to shine
Thoughts flicker on life’s endless stoep
In tandem with the sun that mimes
That morn when words and wheels are cleansed
Found true and veiled in mortal condensed.
Thabiso Nkoana©2013-04-21
Copyright © Thabiso Nkoana | Year Posted 2013
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