Sonnet 58 'The Stings That Disappointment Brings Are Deep'
The stings, that disappointment brings, are deep,
When one’s believed in Love, and seen Love fail.
So often, on-track lives go off the rail,
And so, the Soul returns to caverns, deep,
And there, She waits, and gives up near all hope,
And huddles ‘between the rock, and the hard place’
And disbelieves in love, and faith and grace.
And rolls like round rocks, down a grassy slope
So gingerly, she weaves a net of rope
But lets the fish swim out! She cannot bear
To handle gentle things ungently. Where
Is gone the happy, faithful child of hope,
Who played with butterflies, and kites on strings?
O! Such an one is meant for joyful things!
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