In which, having realized that she wasn't anywhere near being capable of writing a darn sonnet, Your Humble Blogger tries to go for something short and sweet instead:
"God as an Old Woman Watching at the Window"
I see them playing, sipping lemonade.
And me? I drink the sun, and I can taste it,
But it's too sweet. With all my efforts made,
It's best to watch. On me, young pleasure's wasted.
***
I remember two things about writing this: 1) It came about on a day when I walked past a series of condos in which a lot of elderly people live, and 2) at the time, I was reading a lot of Edna St. Vincent Millay, who seems to get a bad rap for being a formalist and using language that gets described as "quaint." I like Edna St. Vincent Millay; I think she was a witty writer, and anyone who can do what she can with so many poetic forms obviously pays attention to her craft.
Okay, so this poem's a little old fashioned, too. Not the best, but I think I felt a little more comfortable with fitting words into lines when I wrote it. And sometimes, short and sweet really is what best expresses the thought. As with this post. Zooooooom!
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