/lit/ - Literature

A sonnet

My gorgeous friend even on your memory I smile
I picture you a handsome knight who flavors my life
And me a lowly farmer tilling the field all the while
Telling me of your honor your victory your strife
My dear boon mate I greet with arms outstretched
Grinning like a cook before the emperors ball
The steam of wonder and marvel and finest of scents
I do delight in these ‘fore the rest of them all
Much like the path that this merry life shall take
I foresee you towering ‘bove crowds of lovely number
But I must confess unlike the cook I attempt relate
I do not make you myself except in slumber
And yet still I know you are pure autumn spirit.
Cause I am jealous and bitter winter right near it.

A sonnet

My gorgeous friend even on your memory I smile
I picture you a handsome knight who flavors my life
And me a lowly farmer tilling the field all the while
Telling me of your honor your victory your strife
My dear boon mate I greet with arms outstretched
Grinning like a cook before the emperors ball
The steam of wonder and marvel and finest of scents
I do delight in these ‘fore the rest of them all
Much like the path that this merry life shall take
I foresee you towering ‘bove crowds of lovely number
But I must confess unlike the cook I attempt relate
I do not make you myself except in slumber
And yet still I know you are pure spring spirit.
Cause I am jealous and bitter winter right near it.