Miroslava Odalovic (Montenegro)

In hand clocked desert sands
Grain spread across the lands
Sky dived still reaching high

The sonnet meant to be mute
No word was it meant to say
All it wanted was to sway
A second longer than a lute

The sonnet meant to rise
Beyond a dark worn mask
Facing a bitterness dusk
Hiding in lights disguise

It never meant to heart
Though choked in the first breath
It never meant to flirt
Flirt with tokens of its own death