Oh jingle bells and their place is well
Feels a little sad admist the joy it brings
One more nightmare and it won’t be hell
Seeing but not feeling with the songs she sings
Would it be 'bout nothing our soul is flexed?
Warming up the shrew was’t all in vain?
Limping from the middle yet not perplexed
Life would be a game for all its pain
So they say it's Christmas they broke our shell
Where are all our glories, where hold our strings?
Darkness nor the tempest would mean no pretext
Blessed afar or near our thoughts mispell
The meaning of true love, like bees it stings
Right across our heart; no joys expressed
This is one of my many unpublished poems. I should say that I am a man of many opportunities. And this is why I do not have enough time for anything. I need to separate some things; I need time to do it.
If you enjoy the sonnet, please leave a comment.
Thanks.
Vic (Merygold)
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