Another Viola

April 12, 2011 at 1:09 pm (Poetry, Sonnets) (, , , , , )

Look at me. Another lost Viola.

Sitting in disguise and quiet, secret love

To see him, ah! but to love him with a-

No. Don’t say passion. Don’t say smold’ring love.

I, Viola, must sit with patience,

Must sit and not be seen or heard or loved.

To break my promise would kill my conscience-

Would return me to that hated, dark flood.

That unholy night where my soul first lost

Those black times when my deeds were unguarded

I killed my dreams in regretted holocaust.

And now I wait, missing what I discarded.

Their sacrifice that I might learn anew

That grace still comes even when merits are few.

 

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