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Sleep

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They say my future follows on your past,
commanded not to love you by the wise.
They say he never truly lives who lies
a captive still, and by your charms held fast:
your warmth was torn by chilly morning air,
through daytime heat your image in my eye
would ever grow, would wane, would never die,
and with the night, you’d once again be there.
       You took my life, and took away my breath;
       you took my world, and left your words untrue.
       No dreams are left I haven’t left with you
        and still you keep reminding me of death.
I’ve abdicated kingdoms for your sake:
and yet, and yet… I wish myself awake.

sonnet

◄ Pittsburgh

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Comments

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M.C. Newberry

Fri 16th Mar 2012 12:40

This is both imaginative and well executed on a subject about which Edward Thomas also wrote so well in the past. This deserves to be read alongside the older poem.

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