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Rated: E · Poetry · Emotional · #1579311
An Elizabethan sonnet
This apple, wrapped in skin like yellow silk,
that brightly shines when rubbed against my sleeve
has flesh as crisp as linen, fresh as milk,
and sweet to me as sun to greening leaves.

With each refreshing, snapping, dripping bite,
I feel my bleak depression slip away.
My groaning void is filled with summer light
and strength to last another winter day.

The tree that bore this fruit was planted deep
by unknown hands that labored long ago.
My benefactor didn't stay to reap
the harvest, but he taught it how to grow.

Salvation was prepared before my need
because a sower stooped to plant a seed.









Contest/publish records:
UTSPS 2010, Cat. 32, 2nd, cash award
2010 UTSPS Panorama
Messages on the Water http://www.lulu.com/spotlight/merrijane
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