~Sunday Poem!

 

I cannot sleep; my mind's too full of him.
What right has he to haunt me, since I vowed
that I would no more think of him aloud,
but store him safe away inside my dim
attic of thoughts? And if I sleep, I dream
of walking with him through a dappled wood;
then, waking, shadows of his visage cloud
my sight. The morning's nascent sunbeams brim
with hazy phantoms from the night before
that sharpen in the glare of afternoon;
when evening glooms, I once again make grim
resolve that I will think of him no more;
at night I lie here staring at the moon.
I cannot sleep. My mind's too full of him.

Art by Albert Edelfelt
Sonnet: First published in Lucidity