Purple's Platitudes

nothing but words …

Sonnet 48

14 July 2013

 

 

Sonnet 48

 

 

To you, a wistful, wishful thought,

to me, the more accursed blue,

as you struggle against the drought,

this cruel infinity I rue,

You gasp and plead for just a pause,

a moment just to call your own,

while I see not effect nor cause,

just emptiness whose meaning’s flown.

Your busyness you see as curse,

and envy what you think you need,

but trust me, idleness is worse,

nothing’s so much harder to feed.

Lament your lack, but be aware

the grass ain’t greener over there.

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14 July, 2013 - Posted by | Poetry | ,

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