Shakespeare's sonnet
47.
Betwixt mine eye and heart a league is took,
And each doth good turns now unto the other,
When that mine eye is famished for a look,
Or heart in love with sighs himself doth smother;
With my love's picture then my eye doth feast,
And to the painted banquet bids my heart:
Another time mine eye is my heart's guest,
And in his thoughts of love doth share a part.
So either by thy picture or my love,
Thy self away, art present still with me,
For thou not farther than my thoughts canst move,
And I am still with them, and they with thee.
Or if they sleep, thy picture in my sight
Awakes my heart, to heart's and eye's delight.
modern sonnet
Majestic
It has been years since guests have spent the night,
yet here it sits, majestic in its state of
disrepair, a shadow of the sight
it once projected, ill-aware of fate.
When gold ran out the miners laid in wait,
and word got out, which slowed the westward drift,
migration stalled while those in stead debate decided
if economies would lift.
With nothing else to draw, the end was swift,
more vacancies, the empty rooms were cold.
No longer could the owners man the shift,
and nothing left- the hotel hadn’t sold.
The long abandoned property, forlorn,
displays its fading windows as we mourn.
