Shakespearian sonnet


“To sit in solemn silence…” Ha! To think:

Grasping bits of the past, forming the now,

Reconciling the gaps, mending the brink

Between what was, with whom, and the somehow!


Her voice was just as clear as cellophane.

She was a mistress of celibacy.

“Words, words, words,” and yet hers were not in vain.

Quick smile, she wrote, “My blessings go with thee.”


An inspiration, strongest impression –

Vocabulary met vernacular.

What, ho! By providence they bore a son!

Wisdom, she wrought, carried further than her.


Oh, Wisdom, one who pampers and protects,

Your shine outweighs the emptiness of sex.

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