Fifteen
Jul 6, 2021
A Sonnet
“she’s not all that,” they say behind me, soft,
but I hear them loud and clear like sirens.
what do I care, as I left them and scoffed,
dreaming up poems that may rival Byron’s.
*
just like that I spend a season alone,
A Sonnet
“she’s not all that,” they say behind me, soft,
but I hear them loud and clear like sirens.
what do I care, as I left them and scoffed,
dreaming up poems that may rival Byron’s.
*
just like that I spend a season alone,