in the company of solitude

petrarchan sonnet

Heavy like the drop of thick stage curtains, Wrapped suffocation of glowing comfort, Sat idle over the lull of some desert, Almost sympathetic for the confined puritans. Walled from macabre and sonorous chaos, Setting moods like the celibate candle That remained alone in darkness dwindled, And scattered gray scale to dust and toss. At long she and I were the same person, As we bartered thought and mused with music. It was with blinds shut silent where I loosen, And there in the rusty charcoal mosaic, Evoking life through this sentient prison, When at last fell mute and left it nostalgic.

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