SONNET

 

I groan and mutter, broken like a splint
My feet kick through my sheets, churning the air
Somewhere in the world is light, a glint
Of hope, a direction to follow, there
I dream of a bride, of a wife my own
I know all her features like they were mine
But she is not here, so loudly I moan
"Send her to me!  And then I will be fine!
I'll need not long for a wife of my own."
So saying, I collapse, crumple and cry
I have hoped for heaven fifteen long years
My resources are spent, my tear ducts dry
Awaiting proof prayer has reached God's ears
   Some day, I know, my bride will just appear
   But can I hold faithful until that year?

 

---jrw 6:03pm
6-1-96