Because it is Bitter
oo0o0oo
The Dove
.
Why is it, my friend, that you do not love?
Opportunity knocks, but, truly, waits for none,
I fear the future; the past: never undone,
It's as though you've crushed the dove...
Oh God, perhaps you have! Wings and whistles!
A bloodied carcass upon a sacrificial flame,
"For evermore!" no doubt, t'was your claim,
A fire, in your brain: in the thistle.
Oh, my friend, what truly does sadden me
is there really is another bird come to love
and, though the last bird was your own,
I'm afraid of what horrors, suffers, agony,
awaits this lovely lady: lilied dove
who, for some reason or another, loves but you alone.
.
AN: This poem is my first attempt at a Petrarchan Sonnet. Watson reflects on Holmes and his ability to love and, also, what Watson fears may happen to Helen due to Holmes destruction of his own heart.
