An overgrown stone archway in a misty field at sunset, with a butterfly flying past the glowing sun.

Example Sonnet Forgiveness is a word we cannot hold, A fragile whisper on the morning air; It cannot mend the damage, worn and old, Or take away the burden and the care. The memory, a splinter in the mind, Remains a constant ache, a bitter sting; A wound no passing season leaves behind, No empty promise, whispered on the wind. But to forgive is not to heal the past, Nor is it to forget the harm you've done; It is a choice to free me from the cast, To let the darkness vanish in the sun. So now I choose to set the pain at rest, And in that choice, my spirit finds its test. See more