Sonnet (For The Pen And Paper)

I will find a brave heart of trust and worth, And fill it with songs I truly can share; For such should true art be to fill the earth, Be fresh for tomorrow to breathe the air. The seasons are here for quality and taste, Let none of them lose in fade or convert; For then they can't grow and be of a waste, Or be to the heart like lips without flirt. In hope that all things turn out to go well, I will spoil none songs in minutes of luck; But bring them all forward in stories to tell, So years in future may become awestruck. The pen and the paper together then thrive, And all that I know to their keeping derive.