Author Information
Claire's Sonnet
She stands low as I watch her face,
I sit across from her and think,
As she clumsily spills her drink
Quiet, and studiously in her place,
Her eyes are depthless, speaking soft
They whisper heavily and curling near
Etch into my soul and crawl through my ears
Blinking, searching for something lost
An angel’s face, no more or less,
Swaying, sashaying quite unsteadily
Dancing wanly in her summer dress
But weaves through the others slow and stealthily
Consequently, I must confess
That later I’ll wake up from this dream
