Ode to Winter - Sonnets

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I need a poem that flows like rivers wild Choose perfect words that match each one in line I tap my feet until the sound is right And in the end I'll call this stanza mine Now that I got the first one off my chest I struggle with this stanza number two My muse has left and told me to my face "A perfect rhyme is just too much for you You write a language that's not even yours And miracles don't happen every day" I said "I know, but still I want to try So off you go, I'll write in my own way" And here I am, but perfect I am not Right from my heart, because that's all I've got And now that I have got the hang of it…… Ode to Winter When Autumn ends his glorious colour bright, and all the leaves have fallen to the ground, while trees are bending naked in moon's light, the song of Winter makes a tinkling sound. All shades are dimmed to white and greyish blue and hail will struck the fruits, still in their sleep. The soil is bare where once the poppies grew, while weeping willows just can't stop to weep. And suddenly the world has disappeared, in layers of a blanket, cotton like. The gutters seem to've grown an icy beard, from darkened clouds the lightening will strike. In the serenity of Winter's cold, green shades of Spring awaken to unfold. ©Photo + Text Titia