Sonnet

Solitary Shoes,

Red roses never bloomed inside my gate,
no matter that I tilled the soil well,
and now I sense the time is turning late;
too soon the winter season comes to dwell.
If I had started planting sooner then
those vases cut from crystal would be full;
instead the bedroom tables’ bare again,
depriving me of sweetest scent and view.
November nights are longer, colder, stark.
So now I search for ways to stay amused;
new paths to tread in solitary shoes.
I turn my eyes away from looming dark
to look instead at pictures in a book:
old photographs of roses I once took.

Source: http://www.everypoet.org/pffa/showthread.php?t=10074
Author: Unknown, but it was posted on 01/07/2002
Type Of Poem: Sonnet

**K@tY@ M3d!N@**