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        This is my first real attempt at a sonnet, thanks to the
                    inspiration  of a  friend who loves the form.

                                Sun Dreams

 

          A fountain whispers softly, dark the woods.
         In raiment bright as stars did crown her brow,
         The Lady hid her heart and silent stood
         Awaiting magic lost in sighing bough.
         So pale the rose that elsewhen shining blooms,
         Now lost the kiss that answered wistful call,
         To scorn-filled words, a moonlit dreaming's doom,
         Harsh gift of Knight, as blackest night doth fall.
         A silence stuns as dreams lie cold near death,
         Who walks a path once sundered from all fears,
         The gardens gasp to give her one more breath,
         The fountain opens depths to catch the tears.
               Then softly fashioned moon, and stars anew
               And whispered sun 'neath morning's gentle dew. ©
                             Ruth A. Curl 3-31-2000


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