When You Pressed Me To Pen A Poem

When you pressed me to pen a piece—a few Good lines the least for a well-meaning friend Soon to leave, leaving me starring at blue Skies, blinking stars and blank paper in hand, And I was left brooding on things and ways: Poems are no stray gifts picked from shelved piles, Nor am I one that can spew out vain praise; Unsure I stared still— at ceiling and tiles. Yet, had you been a daughter just, you see— Not one with an escape loop of ‘-in-law’, I’d have fished out one from the deepest sea; And half-tried still, I doubt if you it saw— The piece that can a daughter-in-law please, Some wishes born are to be wish horses. ______________________________________________________ Why can’t a daughter-in-law be a daughter? Rhetorical, yet, it’s easier said than try make it happen. From this dilemma has this sonnet been born. _____________________________________________________________ - Sonnets | 08.05.14 |