La Premiere Nouvelle

(A sonnet of spring with all gratitude to the great William Shakespeare)

 

Shall I compare thee to a spring's rose?

Thou art more gentle and more fragrant

During winter time, such rough words composed

As hearts meander like a vagrant

With the melting of snow and thinning clouds

As sun begins to ride upon his throne

And even tiny grass blades stand up proud

For the wicked, winter woes are gone

But life, my dear, is the Earth as it spins

Unto everything there is reason

In joyful jubilation, we all win

Thus, we are oft controlled by the seasons

As air is crisp and thick with bird's chirp

Tis for thee: Inspiration for pen's work.

 

(Let us embrace the everflowing beauty of life; embracing all which is divine. For it is with a happy heart that we succeed.)

 

 How many were there

A picture is many words

We don't need numbers