Sonnet 18

Sonnet 18
Christopher Bogart

When lighted street lamps gild the green leaves gold
And Autumn’s earliest whisper leaves its lair
To unlock the mind for images that it holds,
Releasing them to haunt the still night air –
One faint figure, hidden half in shadows’ stealth,
Leaks into lamplight, warm with welcoming glow,
To test the memory’s long forgotten wealth
And tease the eyes with things they long to know.
What of this young man filled with frivolous dreams
Emerging from the light in arrogant stride,
Hands holding firm his textbooks by the seams,
The rudders he will use against the tide?
Will he be true to promises made before,
Or will his dreams be lost on distant shores?