Gary W. Hilburger

THE LOST SONNET

The wind at my window
where blossoms in sweet fragrance once grew
bears on soft breath
fragments of frail beauty
lost in autumn’s pale hue.

Branches now barren and stark,
once moist in mornings of dew
bid dear friend in sorrow adieu,
taken in mere moment of time
in shadow of darkness and frost
a poet, a vintner, a master
of both vineyard and vine,
a sonnet whose line
in sorrow forever now lost
in this, our brittle winter,
upon the winters of time.

Semper Fi Buddy

Author’s Note: In memory of Salvatore J. Parlato, Jr: a Friend, Poet, and United States Marine