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Love Sonnet 167

Black colors my days, it’s a waste of night,
In raiment, very dark, it clothed my heart,
For love dimmed, all the bright days are in flight,
Dreams, too, it tainted, until they depart;
Yet, nary is a picture with no shades,
No one returns, if first he did not leave,
With much exposure, novelty soon fades,
Your absence, might prove worthless to bereave;
If life be garden where sweet roses grow,
There also thrive the weeds which cause the pain,
And mark, a blue sky makes not the rainbow,
It’s the sunshine, with some help from the rain;
……..Let my bright days be rained down, for I know,
……..That it results in rainbows which soon show.

A lovely poem. I particularly like your reminder that a purely blue sky cannot create a rainbow - that's a powerful metaphor.

Lincolnshirelass wrote: ↑27 Feb 2018, 05:58 A lovely poem. I particularly like your reminder that a purely blue sky cannot create a rainbow - that's a powerful metaphor.

You are right. We need the rain, not just the bluest of skies. In effect, sorrows are integral to our lives.
Thanks for commenting.

Wow very good

Christiana Arthur wrote: ↑06 Mar 2018, 04:36 Wow very good

Thanks for your encouragement. I felt honored to be in your first post in this forum.