My sweet tender wife whom I dearly love,
Ever strives to keep me on the fine path,
And surely merits favor from above,
For the restraint of her infrequent wrath.
Dealing daily with my incompetence,
Which oft is egregious and deplorable,
Her aptitude for patience quite immense,
And altogether truly laudable.
She deserves to be constantly pining,
And with her silence speaks unspoken words,
That shows her spirit is ever shining,
As light and graceful as the songs of birds.
Where would I be without my companion?
Look for my soul in a dour canyon.
An attempt at an English sonnet.
