Sonnet 6

Passing Fancy

Narcissus, aren’t you running a bit late?
I feel your season is quite nearly past.
The hour’s long gone for when we set our date.
Take this reminder: spring doesn’t last.

The azaleas are all but faded;
the dogwoods, too, have lost their bloom.
I know my words sound a bit jaded,
but you can’t expect our joy to resume.

The grass has grown a bit too long;
you coyly wink at me from its depths.
You’re coming on a little strong—
our love has taken its last breaths! 

And still your loving charms do entice…
though your concept of time isn’t precise.