Can I churn out, a sonnet each day,
When it becomes a chore, will the sensitivity stay?
Will I write in a hurry, to meet the day's goal,
Getting the rhyme right, but losing the poem's soul?
Can I find themes other, than the usual love and pain,
By moving out of my comfort zone, what will I gain?
Will the imagery be novel, not limited to caged birds singing
Will my poems soothe and heal, with just a dash of singeing?
Can I keep her hooked, eagerly waiting for the next,
Or bombarded by so many, she might just not read my text?
With my daily pledge of love, would my chances go above zero,
If I keep writing till she relents, can I hope to be her hero?
A new year resolution, that only lasts till spring,
I'm wiser this time, settling for a 90 days sprint.
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