Love sonnet

By Conor Ammett

How weak is the mind that shifts with seasons,

How sweet a kiss between two young lovers,

The yelling, the pain, the grief, the reasons,

The bright, the giving, much to discover.

The beginning is all stolen glances,

The middle is a bird taking the sky,

The end swallows, gulps you up, there’s no chance,

They never see the sparkle in your eye.

It hits you: fictional truths, sweet tears,

A finite infinity, silent shout.

Envy from a bottle, a jealous beer,

Swing! Strike one, two, three, but you are not out.

How weak is the mind that collapses under,

How sweet, how real that first kiss, I wonder?