Rejection (Sonnet 1)

A grieving day to follow prizing night,

Quintessence of self-sorrow, hazy blue,

One brief display of hope for pathways new,

Now all dismissed, no luck with dawn's first light.

Had I the skills to do the damn thing right:

The verbiage and wit to lull and woo,

The song that story-tellers all pursue!

Instead of cock-eyed prose, so tired and trite.

Now put aside flirtation with your grief,

And shake yourself, Con-boy, just write the next.

(Perhaps redemption lies within the text,

Some seed to grow anew to self-belief)

A coffee and a laugh will help to thin,

With growing heart, rejection and chagrin.