When winter blows devoid of spring times warmth
And I feel not my heart beat with unrest
I bear a will for which I venture forth
Will I return whence birds begin to nest?

A golden thread spills from a spool of light
Its radiance is veiled when snow falls fair
And where will beauty go when it’s benight?
A hue of rose which gold cannot compare

The earth decays forthwith the blossom wilts
Yet escapes the eyes of the beholder
A cause once noble now spoiled by guilt
A burden only Atlas could shoulder

Long lost, it lies, a treasure free to reap
There is no birdsong while the bluebirds weep

°•°•°•°
I wrote
A sonnet?
😎