Passion When Eludes My Pen

Passion's fervour eludes when my pen's clip, I cajole, nor caress that it pays heed, Nor go halfway with a hand of friendship, Nor yet work hard weeding unwanted weed. I keep instead stoking the dying fire, And oftentimes weeds have ways to inspire— As often as they make me much perspire, It keeps nigh young my pen's aging desire. I try to rest rooted in discipline, That my mind's wanderlust stays ever wild, That raw curio of a child remains piled, It helps me keep my inner garden green. That I take a sea-farer like dive deep And hope one day a rare treasure to reap. __________________________________________________ Sonnets | 04.01.10 |