It could have been a dream.

tetrameter sonnet

It could have been a dream.

 

The clock strikes twelve then strikes one more

Which it has never done before

Thirteen o’clock what can it mean.

The magic hour that lies between.

 

Yesterday and a brand new day.

Time moves in a different way.

This is the only time you’ll see

Behind the veils of mystery.

 

Things which are hidden normally

For one short hour you can see.

Though only’til the clock strikes one

A single chime bids time move on.

 

I do not think you will recall

 one single thing you saw at all.

 

Monday, 16 April 2012

Reviews

[L.P. Hawkins]

This is quite lovely. In some places, the meter breaks, not only syllabic but in the location of the stress. I have the same issue when I rhyme--a few drafts to mend the sore spots. Regardless, your spots do not break the flow enough to remove the reader, given duly to the spot-on lyrics and interesting tale being told. This is a good read.