Sonnet of the Bugle, though there are a few breaks of rule.

Disclaimer: I don't own Spirit. If I did… well, I'm not sure what I would do.

My days have seemingly lengthened

Like leaves on the trees, failing to fall

Willing to defy the nature of lore

Unwilling to heed nature's chilling call

Words flow through my ears at the seasons' pace

Reluctance to obey the will of people

My focus slips, the bugle sings time's race

As the sun falls beneath Mary's steeple

Life continues around me, always fierce

I feel myself swept up in a current

Through time that has slowed but not ceased, pierced

A hole in my fixated assurant

The light that followed that miniscule hole

Played, in my reveal, a massive role.