Sonnet 1

Death may bring the end

To your physical being

But from all the wishes that you send

We know that you are seeing

Everything that goes on down here

Where you wink and watch with a comical eye

From our first car to our first beer

And we think that we can hide with a lie

But we think of you and your disapproving nod

And admit to the wrong

While out on the farm, laying down sod

And the radio plays your favorite song

And even though you are gone, you are not forgotten

Whether we are cooking breakfast or picking cotton.

Author's Note

Written for my poetry anthology project in school last year.
Modeled after Shakespeare's Sonnet 18

Reviews

[Dennis A. Clark]

I like it.

For the strict parameters of the contest, revise this poem to meet the "iambic pentameter" requirement. It's a challenging requirement, I know.