Upon a day with such a date as this,
I'd like to write a sonnet that's worthwhile,
I'd like to make my verse feel like a kiss
That reaches out and gives the world a smile.
The fifteenth of the fifth, twenty-fifteen,
D'you feel the way those words roll off your tongue?
At times I find the sound of things obscene,
We think our thoughts and then as words they're flung
From inside us and out into the world.
Our throats are like the barrel of a gun
From which the bullets of a thought are hurled
Then flying words hit targets one by one.
Fifteen, O five, fifteen it is today,
And these are the few words I've had to say.
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