Sunday Sonnet [On a Monday, Eschewing Rhyme Scheme], #20, 2015

6920309503_9693bf7921_z

[Image from Flickr]

The cat purred on her lap, content beneath

fingers warped with age and toil.  Looking out

on the garden, modest yet well-tended,

she mused on the past, dropped the gates on who

she’d been – had had to be, for him.  The chair

rocked back and forth, lending rhythm to the

flow of memories of then.  A person

much different she’d been, someone else in

this skin now changed: a warden to youthful

rage, when he’d not known how to control it.

A figure of sometimes brutal correction,

temperer of his darker self.  She smiled.

It had helped.  She just hoped he remembered

the real lesson: keep safe all honest love.

[Copyright © N R Nolan 2015]