There was a competition in a poetry magazine to write a sonnet beginning with the line I begin with here
How like a prison is my cubicle
Within four walls I feel I am entrapped.
How like a song unsung,unmusical,
My state of mind so far has not been mapped.
Inside my heart I used to have a room
Where space and grace and nature all did dwell.
But then a new man led me to my doom
The details I shall never wish to tell.
My walls fell down like Jericho of old.
My love became my enemy,my hate.
With rubble my heart filled,alas, not gold.
These cubicles each write my inner state.
What seems to be outside is found within
True love can never last when lovers sin.
How my heart sings 