Sonnet for S.

When first I saw your small, expressive face,
I knew it was to be a great romance.
Rebelled against my given social place,
And asked you, sweetly, meekly, to the dance.
And so we went; my crush grew through the spring.
You brought me roses; I began to fall.
I’d heard that love was such a fickle thing
But I could scarcely feel the slightest squall.
Then when, in autumn, you did subtly stray,
I took the high road, trying to forgive –
But you were mean, and made my world turn grey;
That winter was as long as love would live.
And so it was: a year from lust to rust,
Where love goes ash to ash and dust to dust.