In tribute to Anya Jaenicke, my good friend and source of divine impulse for this sonnet.
|Does strife constrain me from thoughts of your mind?
Does it impede my mind's-eye image of you?
Even with my circumscribed point of view
I know this,—that you're of most gracious kind.
A poet and a mentor, you remind
me of a lost faith in what's pure and true,
ideals once held by me and by the few
that all the innocents have left behind.
So, Anya, I laud you as a brother
with these well-chosen lines from this sonnet;
please esteem them (as you would your mother)
as if your very joy depends on it.
A lodestar and guide, you have earned my love
like the Bard whose muse came down from above.