Sonnet 38

  • A newfound appreciation for the toils of the heart,
  • Now that it beats to a song sung before,
  • A familiar rhythm that’s recognized from the start,
  • Though this time the chorus is emphasized more.
  • “My fingers no longer feel like dancers”,
  • Wailed with a sobering sigh,
  • “My messages are no longer answered”,
  • Voice cracking as the bridge falls and dies ,
  • By and bye a grimace remains,
  • As the lyrics continue to remind, restart,
  • Each wrinkle folding a history of pains,
  • Each bar toasting a memory’s depart.
  • And as the record continues to play,
  • Remember the loop is not too far away.

Notes

Written rather quickly while sitting outside a department store in Taipei in relatively cold weather.

Theme and premise is good, though lacks thorough wordplay and punnery. I mostly wanted to get "My fingers no longer feel like dancers" in something, so I plopped it in here. The wrap up is quite good though, great metaphor for certain feelings that keep coming back.

Not much else to say.

— Huy on