A slip and fall and I've lost all.
|14 line sonnet:
Gravel flew, along with muddied leather.
The boot went flying; me still tucked inside.
A bit of hail becries a change of weather.
It's trembling cold, ice piling far and wide.
I was his favorite sock, some months ago.
And as a pair, we danced along the track.
The master's smile made our bright patterns glow.
Now, I am lost and never coming back!
The master rises up without a hitch.
"Where is that missing boot?" I hear him plea,
while searching through the slimy half-filled ditch.
"Relax," I tell myself, "he'll soon find me."
The snow is falling now. His sight is blurred.
I'm lost, he never found where I'm interred.