A Sonnet

when in those darkest moods i find my musing
arrested by most bleak and absent hope,
addled further yet by thoughts confusing,
the audacity oft required beyond my scope;
my mettle leaves me low, my courage craven
and waives my ardor more, my fervor less
until i cede my last remaining haven
and think of you and how i have been blest.
for in the least of such deliberations,
as when the heralds praise the day begun,
my thoughts acquit all sign of consternation
and light my soul as day is lit by sun.
in this you are the warden of my smiles
entrancing all your precious heart beguiles

--
© 1999 Rhiannon