A Sonnet

The parting is the hardest part of fate—

The slow untangling knot still left unwound;

We pause as if the hour is too late

To divvy fair the treasure we have found.

Our words like fingers pointing at the moon;

Whose light reveals the shadows that you teach;

And this goodbye that seems to come too soon

The pulsing tide returns you to our reach.

With each soul you shaped the morphable clay

And lay to rest the fickle thorns of time;

You gave us all an ordinary day

Below some harsh summit we could not climb—

I’ve never asked, but I’ve wondered how and why

You somehow managed to teach frogs to fly.

(For Lorraine Ward on her retirement:
a good friend, mentor, and amazing boss) 

Comments

[Adam]

This was a really nice Sonnet, and it was really good considering how long of a time it takes to write a sonnet. However I felt the last line stood out really far... But maybe that was just a cool twist.

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