Sonnet

JOYS THAT STING

Oh doe not die, says Donne, for I shall hate

All women so. How false this sentence rings.

Women? But in a life made desolate

It is the joys once shared that have the stings.

To take the old walk alone, or not at all,

To order one pint where I ordered two,

To think of, and then not to make, the small

Time-honoured joke (senseless to all but you);

To laugh (oh, one'll laugh), to talk upon

Themes that we talked upon when you were there,

To make some poor pretence of going on,

Be kind to one's old friends, and seem to care,

While no one (O God) through the years will say

The simplest, common word in just your way.

C.S.Lewis