In jealous rage, her angel wings he clipped.
In possessive whim, her freedom he took.
To train her, keep her, and break her, he whipped,
All of it he recorded in his small book.
It never occurred that once while napping
That this imprisoned angel, she would rise
And from him take this book and its wrapping
And from this prized volume grow ever wise.
From this being's hidden knowledge she grew
To love this tortured, listless soul of his.
Brought into a life that was given anew,
She took from him a desperate promise.
A promise for her freedom did give he
And his own came, given by angel she.
Author notes
A Shakespearean Sonnet for English.
Written April 7th, 2006
Adding your comment: