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I have previously published this text here on Poeter.se, the 27th of February, 2015, and the 14th of February, 2020.


The Suitor (A Sonnet)

The Suitor

Who am I, but a fool, to think of you,
me, the last suitor to arrive in spring,
no sense and not the slightest single clue,
not one, on how to find my key, to sing.

Upon a branch I prance, yes, brag my mantle
as you just tend your dress within a smile;
upon the ground I swirl and bump and tangle
while you just sit and read, then, hum a while.

My love, if you bestow on me by grace,
the scale, unveiled, by wich your hart does play,
unfold the score I sense and clearly trace
a tone might grow, that makes you see, my way.

So we might tune for us a chord, a voice,
a well that sparkles of our love; rejoice!






Bunden vers (Sonett) av Olof Lagerhorn VIP
Läst 265 gånger och applåderad av 3 personer
Publicerad 2024-08-12 11:04



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  Sparvögat VIP
Wonderful ~ makes me think of a bird singing to its loved one...
2024-08-12

  Marita Ohlquist VIP
Bra skrivet om friaren som längtar efter att få höra kärlekens ljuvliga toner.
2024-08-12
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Olof Lagerhorn
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