Sonnet 8 'In Honor of My Wife'
How Audacious, I, to think: “I’ll make a book…”
To think that some will love to read my rhymes.
Approval’s a path I long ago forsook…
But still, I love to share my words, sometimes…
Because I hope the anguish we all feel,
By being read in me, helps some feel heard…
Because Joy is a Leaven in the Meal,
Because I hurt, and cannot heal – absurd?
I lost my wife, and never brought her home,
And I am broken, sundered… my hope is shed,
And so, I write, and hope I’m not alone,
That I can make her Live, still, though she’s dead.
And so, I think I’ll make my book for HER,
And to God’s kind Judgment, I will defer…
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