Sense Sonnet - Acher

 On Sunday

I sit alone with sadness of

The news of distant tragedy,

Causing the loss of my dear love

Who'll never return home to me.

Then suddenly I hear a sound

And see a songbird landing near,

Sets a white rose upon the ground,

As though knowing that I am here,

And that each and ev'ry Sunday,

A white rose my dear love would bring

And give to me in heartfelt way.

To me, my dear love then would sing.

The songbird sings as I do take

The white rose for this Sunday's sake.