Sonnet, a poem written by Allan Edward Tierney at
Marco Bianchetti



written by: Allan Edward Tierney


Alone I oft think on that one called death
When grey rain falls drearily cold outside
I see the dying of all color there
An ending of joy, of my love and pride

I sit at my window alone and stare
As dark conjectures fill my heart with woe
Creeping night takes my spirit in its grasp
All I love and hold dear will one day go

How long I sit my friend, I cannot tell
Time becomes thinnest wraith and I so weak
My spirit swoons under her dread grey embrace
I am alone, entrapped, and cannot speak

But then I am roused by my offspring gay
And I join once more life’s colorful fray.

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