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Sonnet by Scott

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Dark clouds of January, hope is gone,
the earth is cold and hard and dying bless
but lo, she walks from the distance low sun,
and she is quite beautiful I confess;
she brings the warmth of a burning white sun,
and like butter, the snow melts before her;
and with ease she has all pain on the run,
and it will not be back soon I am sure;
her flawless skin glows like a shining moon,
her dress flows like the clouds in the vast sky;
she's near me now, there is so little room,
her beautiful face makes my heart fly high;
and now, at last, she is finally here,
my mind, it is closed, but hers is so sheer





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