A sonnet, not so, eh.
Evidently this is what my brain does when it wants to avoid homework. It's too bad it didn't want to be written in iambic pentameter. Then it would have been my only real sonnet ever. I still kinda like it, even if I did fudge one of the rhymes.
Choices
A rose, untimely touch'd by frost
Red petals fair yet edged by death
with little care for what is lost
perfumes the air, its dying breath
What can such tender blossoms know
of what lies past, a moment gone
or yet to come as breezes blow
and kiss or kill with each new dawn
Yet shelter seeks it not, its thorns
do prick all well-intentioned souls,
daring those who'd see it shorn
from its life's blood, though death it chose
In choosing, petals fall like rain
and, kissing earth, find peace again.
Michelle Lyons
Choices
A rose, untimely touch'd by frost
Red petals fair yet edged by death
with little care for what is lost
perfumes the air, its dying breath
What can such tender blossoms know
of what lies past, a moment gone
or yet to come as breezes blow
and kiss or kill with each new dawn
Yet shelter seeks it not, its thorns
do prick all well-intentioned souls,
daring those who'd see it shorn
from its life's blood, though death it chose
In choosing, petals fall like rain
and, kissing earth, find peace again.
Michelle Lyons