I'd like to think I won't in time forget
The joys of seeing you, in every sense.
But I must fear that very soon I'll fret
Myself out of my happiness, and fence
Away my pleasure from my everyday
Remembering only frustrated hours
When I did not know what I ought to say
And mere contentment seemed beyond my powers.
I know myself, alas, and know too well
How easily I fall into a funk;
If I will so again I cannot tell,
But I have seen before how I have sunk
And so I fear it. But this sonnet will last
To serve as beacon to a better past.
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