Summers Day Stroll

double sonnet in Iambic tetrameter

 

 

Summers day stroll.

 

She wore a simple summer dress

Her arms and legs were brown and bare

What stole my heart I must confess,

 the red/gold beauty of her hair.

Which rippled like a waterfall

caressed by every passing breeze.

Formed round her head an aureole

 a sight that could not fail to please.

A poet with an artist’s eye

 for that is what I claim to be

I did but see her passing by

but I remember vividly.

She looked so young and innocent

I looked my fill and was content

 

I do not think that she saw me

but if she did she would have seen.

An old man strolling aimlessly

An old grey haired worn out has been.

She looked at me unseeingly.

Much too engrossed or so it seemed

to spare a single glance for me.

I formed no part of what she dreamed.

She was still young and so naïve.

She thinks that youthful dreams come true.

But I am old and don’t believe
I know they very seldom do.

So I continued on my way

and left her wrapt in reverie

This pretty girl had made my day.

Albeit quite unknowingly.

Although I’m old I still recall

 when dreaming mattered most of all.

 

10-May-08

 

http:// blog.myspace.com/poeticpiers

Reviews

[M. E. Lee]

This poem made me so happy. It is such a good piece. I love the lines "She was still young and so naïve.
She thinks that youthful dreams come true.
But I am old and don’t believe
I know they very seldom do."

[Angelic Darkness]

We dream no matter what age, and that is your gift. AD

[Amber Sun]

I love poetry like this: narrative with an artist's unique touch.

The topic of the poem is one I know all too well, you portrayed the curious observer in myself well.

[Solst Rapture]

This touched me a great deal. The anonymity, or invisibility of a person when they age is a profound thing for me to consider, but I do, quite often. The narrator was clearly overjoyed with this observation, and slightly solemn from being unimportant, or forgettable. The Melancholic tones of unfulfilled dreams rattled my brain, battling with my own ideas about my occupations and aspirations. It was a eloquent write with good timing and use of rhyme.