Sonnet Poem by Martins Akhoeneto
Sonnet
When will you come home
And fill the dying space
Which yearn a million ways
For you and you alone
All I hear is noises
Infesting the busy street
As if it has disease
And count at every beat
Gazing at the clock of boredom
And wait for the call of dusk
To grant my lover his freedom
To offer me what I humbly ask
And his chest be my tender pillow
Smiling in his arms, as lights go low
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4/18/2024 7:29:13 PM # 1.0.0.1119
