Form: Cornish Sonnet
Everyone is working through their own crap
And spares not time for a world in pain
This modern living is just a rat trap
The price of breathing is freedom of thought
The wealth of beauty lost to our own gain
And happiness is that which can be bought
How can we hope to meet heavenly eyes
Or dance in the love of the moonlit nights
If we do not take time to hear her cries
To rejoice the wonder of the springs rebirth
Instead of grasping towards neon lights
There is no time to hear the voice of Earth
Everyone is working through their own crap
There is no time to hear the voice of Earth
©JGFarmer2016
A Garret Poet 