Whippet Tales 2.0- Spring of 2015 Volume 3 | Page 9

Spring Whippet Tales
Page 8

Sonnet
By Maggie Gray
A surface fills with color, so do I,
A whirlwind of thought without any sound.
It is simplicity in patterns gowned.
Allowing all of the wingless to fly.
I’m seeing if it will embrace my cry,
Waiting to see what creation is found.
Pulling me higher, yet back to the ground,
I’m at the point where on it I rely.
Though it clothes me in sweet serenity,
Though all of my brain’s small pieces it binds,
Though it defines my true identity,
It may not seep in the depths of their minds.
But I will dig deeper and reach higher,
I’ll let brushstrokes spread through me like fire.

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