Transcendental Sonnet #1125:
When the Clock Strikes Midnight

for Silke

Although I am fortunate to have a home
I rejoice to have escaped outside my doors
I felt restless there and felt the need to roam
If only to coffeehouses where the bores
At least lend heat with all their idle blather

I do not listen to them I would rather
Serve silently as the beneficiary
Of all their hot air and the propinquity
Of radiant obesity to keep me warm

I sit and drink my coffee as hot as I can
Chewing a crust of bread hoping sonnets will form
And I might seem a quite eccentric little man
But when the clock strikes midnight at last I will speak
With Silke: the earth inherited by the meek



+Steven Curtis Lance

Copyright MMIV Silke LLC

I really like this one, a lot, Steven. For some reason, this one speaks to me, much more clearly, than your others, though I get those too, this one, especially, got to me.

By the way, have you reached your 1million mark on Sonnets, yet, you must have, by now, lol.

Take care, hon.
Aiyana

I'd love to be a fly on the wall in your coffee house. I imagine it must be quite a comical sight. If I could get there now, I would enjoy pulling up a chair and asking that I might join you for a mocca and a chat.

Very good sonnet

I will simply say that I enjoyed reading this piece..


misty..