A sonnet – whoopee! That was a sarcastic ‘whoopee’, I might add. Ah well, put my head down and got on with it. I tried to stick with the basic form but not necessarily sure that I could do the volta element, however I tried!
The scents of summer always take me back:
a childhood spent out, playing in the sun,
among the sedge and cowslips we would run.
True feral kids, we formed a private pack.
The tented hawthorn arched above our heads
A canopy, concealing us from sight.
Our dens would fill our days from dawn to night
And fill our dreams, when tucked up tight in bed.
But was it always sunny in my youth?
I can’t believe we never felt the rain.
Could it be I’m hiding from the truth?
It’s easier than facing up to pain.
Alone and growing old, my mind unsure,
the arms of childhood gather me once more.