Sonnet 43 - Creative Writing Interpretation

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Sonnet 43. The sound of infant birds wakes my wearied body. I open my stubborn eyes to the bliss of a beautiful day. I whirl over to the sight of my precious loved one. The sweet ringing of his quiet snores relaxes my body and tempts my mind to drift into the mysterious world of sleep. For a moment I indulge, but after a while I continue with my awakening. Punctiliously, I creep out of bed and wearily wander down the transcendental hallway. As I briskly slumber past the window I hear the familiar whistle of astringent wind. It reminds me of my childhood faith; the crisp winter morning strolls which where the sign of the heavy build up to Christmas; the glistening berries on the prickly holly bush; the hush sound of singing choirs and the humble smell of my mother cooking a heavenly Christmas roast. Reminiscence surges towards my mind as the memories of my childhood contrasts with my present day; it leaves me pondering about what my life would be like if my mother was still alive. She never engaged with the idea of true love; I strongly doubt she ever experienced love like we have... Abruptly, I hear the sound of distant footsteps substantially meander down the hallway. Robert. My mind suddenly panics and the palms of my hands start to sweat uncontrollably. I swiftly wipe them on my silk night gown and meet him at the entrance of the kitchen. I immediately engulf him in my arms as I longingly wrap myself around his bare chest; unusually he pushes me away, leaving a haunting gap between us. My heart shudders. He briskly walks past me and creates a bitter gust of wind in his stride; my mouth goes dry instantly and the luscious air I once breathed vanished. I gulped for oxygen and tried to forget the incident; maybe he’s in a mood, I think to myself, trying to clear my dangerous thought paths. Slyly, I weave my way around him and block his view. I try to speak but

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