So, yeah. If I'm gonna do this writing thing, I guess I should take a look at whose writing really inspires me. And the first name that comes to mind is Edna St. Vincent Millay. I've loved her work for years. I remember my mom giving me a book of her poetry for Christmas, and I thought it was the best gift ever. Apparently, I've always been a bit of a nerd:) Anyway, here's my favorite piece of her work:
Sonnet 02: Time does not bring relief
Time does not bring relief; you all have lied
Who told me time would ease me of my pain!
I miss him in the weeping of the rain;
I want him at the shrinking of the tide;
The old snows melt from every mountain-side,
And last year's leaves are smoke in every lane;
But last year's bitter loving must remain
Heaped on my heart, and my old thoughts abide
There are a hundred places where I fear
To go,— so with his memory they brim
And entering with relief some quiet place
Where never fell his foot or shone his face
I say, "There is no memory of him here!"
And so stand stricken, so remembering him!