I wrote a Shakespearean sonnet once
with fourteen lines and rhymes and everything.
I don’t remember what it was about.
I just remember that I wrote one once.
I didn’t check it off my bucket list.
My list’s reserved for the impossible
like riding in the Tour de France. It’s not
for sonnets, not for ordinary things
or bragging rights. I wrote it just because
I guess, or maybe, I don’t really know.
I just remember that I wrote one once
with fourteen lines and rhymes and everything
a sonnet is supposed to have. I’m sure
the meter creaked. I’m sure the rhymes were forced
and probably the subject matter sucked.
Someday I’ll have write another one,
and it’s ok if someday never comes.
A sonnet isn’t on my bucket list.