Sonnet Tribute
There is a spot within the Autumn Wood;
There is the last bloom of the Musk Rose still;
Where eager eyes watch but misunderstood,
The passing of the leaves that blow at will.
The silent meditation is so sweet,
Just like the Apples that are Harvested;
That spot is like two people that do meet,
And share sweet secrets that are Invested.
But frost shall come and freeze this pleasant bow'r,
And though the place remains it shall be free;
Uncluttered by a single Human hour,
As Winter shall come fast as it must be.
Yet Spring shall waken this Enchanted spot,
And I shall see, once more, this transformed plot!
~© Timothy 10 November, 2013~
