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.