"nos-f***ing-talgia": a crappy unrhymed sonnet

on a bench of somewhere in the forgotten past the wind whispered lightly and a brown, crisp dead leaf danced and scraped its hunched corpse across an expanse of cold gray cement and the trees brushed against each other like familiar lifelong friends who are glad to be familiar lifelong friends and the day was getting ready to give way to night as the sun ducked below the clouds my world was well again, because i saw her beauty illuminated in a heavenly golden hue