A Winding Trail

A Winding Trail
Form: Keats’ Sonnet

The leaf that floats upon the river’s flow
as is my heart upon a winding trail
beneath the boughs of sleepy willow trees,
as over silver shingle waters go.
My heart is caught in love’s billowing sail
to reach her tender kiss and see her smile.
These lazy summer days we laugh with ease
without a care or sense of weary woe
there is no chance for such a love to fail.
Can hearts still beat as one on autumn’s breeze
and make the fading sun appear worthwhile?
The golden leaves that float away at will
reminds my soul though life will oft beguile,
true love will keep us warm from winter’s chill