Sonnet II

Psyche's Search

Nighttime drove the poor offended on
A soul that scarce could lift its weary head
And I- a witness to this scene
Asleep and dreaming in my bed.
She wandered for a momentary pace,
Then stopped and stooped with painful care
Tracing with her fingers in the dust
A footprint barely there.
It was a fine and finely bon'ed touch
Upon the ground sore hard beneath her step
A lifetime of still searching meant "go on"
Her body bled and begged her for a rest.
But within the footprint, feathers lay,
So she continued on her way.