Sonnet I Poem by Sam Peterson

As Beauty walks through morning's foggy light
And glows warm through opaque watery shimmer,
Like pastel dabbings from enlightened hand
Soft in line, yet sharper in inner shape.

Often memory, alone in far-off place,
Recalls love's clear substantial image
Though face and form be clouded by time.
Why then your face so clear in my mind's eye?

Our time, no longer cut of real-time cloth,
Still lives clear sharp where thoughts alone may go.
Hearts still warmly beat, hands still tightly grasp,
Eyes still gaze at souls so long divided.

Oh, ghostly shadow on memory's plain
Were we to steal our stolen time again.