Now that my novel is done and off to the printer, I’m taking a short break from writing seriously. Although, maybe this is a serious poem? Who knows, really.

A Sonnet for My Last Hinge Match
By Michelle Garren-Flye

Let’s not fall in love, just listen a while:
I can’t sell myself short, it’s no longer my style.
I’m not even sure anymore what I want,
and I’m not saying that just to taunt.

I guess my desire is for a hero of old
a god shining above in a chariot of gold
or winging across the sky on Pegasus.
That’s why there can never be an us.

I expect starlit dance floors, fountains of wine,
and you to be faithful, handsome, and kind.
Settle for something less than? I won’t.
I think I’m destined to wind down my life alone.

I know your bargain doesn’t include all that,
so I’ll happily spend the night alone with my cat.