A Sonnet for an English Teacher, and Too Much Fantasy Reading

Sheltered from the churlish grasp of weather,
the windswept rock closed tight and dry as a hearse
while the lashing tide sweeps down hearth and heather
she, the treasure of a man whose love is cursed.

So locked away in languish by the sea
for the crimes of her inventive, wicked tongue
her brazen boasts go unheard (though loudly)
as she awaits the man she knows must come.

Cloaked he was by moonlight pine dark daggers
fleet the foot he trod down upon the rocks
slipping through the stitch with nimble fingers
to easy in lonely bliss, sapping other thoughts.

Dawn light came cracking as she knew it must
to paint scattered bones and raise a song in dust.

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