By Request, for having such loyal friends and hopefully a fan or two, I have produced my fourth sonnet for you all to see. I found it particularly difficult to write especially once I hit the volta, but it was worth it in my opinion.
For Edith, who simply hid her ability to draw, which in my opinion comes second to none.
Can I be blamed for the magic’s passing?
And the dying of my light? If all my
Talent washes away, will I still fly?
The stroke of my pencil erased, wearing
At me with hungry eyes, my hopes tearing.
It bled away in the dead of night, say
My dreams and her accomplice, the day.
The moon tells different, she is saying
It’s not stolen, you just packed it safe dear,
Your dreams have fooled you, the day has lied.
You’ve lost nothing this night not the power
To smile, or bring it to others, the creed
Of we artists of the night to rear
Our heads and smile upon all we made.
I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I did writing it.