The Sonnet Project: Sonnet #9

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Sonnet #9

When I was six and ten some years ago

My brother lept into his muddy tomb

My mother died upon the rocks below

And father followed after to his mortal doom.

I was the orphan without personage

The daughter veiled from bows and frilly lace

The girl who climbed along the mountain’s ridge

And owned a small and sooty little face.

You see the watchman’s daughter, dark and cloaked

Concealed before she makes her last reprieve

To trade our lives and never be revoked

Would be a gift quite wondrous to receive:

The girl wakes up beside the mountains high

And I, beside her love, a’sleeping  lie.

Copyright 2013 Golden Star Poetry

 

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