Sonnet 1

33 1 0
                                    

I may be a dog, lonesome and humble

And I hear your reply, under your breath.

I have a mouth, that means not I mumble

I have ears, but that means not I am deaf.

I may be a lamb, gazing distant fields

And I can see your fist raise to the left

I may have wisdom, although not from guilds

I may have morals, although they aren't cleft.

I may be a man, curious and brave

And I can see your mood change, to strife's gain

I have arms, that means not I'll dig your grave

I have the tract, for any given pain.

Patience, my friend, can win a mere battle

The only kind bred for death, are cattle.

You've reached the end of published parts.

⏰ Last updated: Dec 14, 2016 ⏰

Add this story to your Library to get notified about new parts!

SonnetsWhere stories live. Discover now