Saturday, September 11, 2004
A sonnet from Grade 12
When breath no longer passes through these lips,
And mortal drums quit beating in mt chest,
When life from 'tween my fingers starts to slip
To heav'n, my soul departed with the rest,
I would not see thee weeping over me,
Thy brow, deep furrowed with a lover's frown,
Your cheeks, by hot tears stained, I would not see,
Your eyes, so red with darkened rings around,
This sight to me, would carry great offence
The beauty of your face so overthrown,
With strong emotion, bitingly intense,
Would, even from my grave, elicit moans.
Yet cry one single small wet tear for love,
For it was truly given from above.
-Trevor
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And mortal drums quit beating in mt chest,
When life from 'tween my fingers starts to slip
To heav'n, my soul departed with the rest,
I would not see thee weeping over me,
Thy brow, deep furrowed with a lover's frown,
Your cheeks, by hot tears stained, I would not see,
Your eyes, so red with darkened rings around,
This sight to me, would carry great offence
The beauty of your face so overthrown,
With strong emotion, bitingly intense,
Would, even from my grave, elicit moans.
Yet cry one single small wet tear for love,
For it was truly given from above.
-Trevor
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