though just a patchwork poem of different lines,
this sonnet shall begin my journal still.
it lacks in structure, not in rhythm or rhyme
and serve it's purpose i am sure it will.
"a journal?" you may say, and ask "what for?"
and i reply "i got bored on a plane"
my grandfather suggested that the lore
that university brings should be lain
within these pages, if i ever write
these out on paper which i may just do
once i return from durham and alight,
this metal bird that brings me there unto.
i don't recall how many lines to add,
though with this quad i think i shall be set
my future works will be more thought ahead,
and probably not from inside a jet.
all things considered, i quite like this poem,
and if my father asks, i'd surely show'im.