She Is Not

This sonnet is an antidote to my previous attempts at romantic poetry.

She is not that silver moon,
Yet she orbits this Earth,
She is not that blue lagoon,
Yet she flows into this firth,

She is not that purple flower,
Yet she garnishes this field,
She is not that ivory tower,
Yet she shines over this weald,

She is not that green palm tree,
Yet her fruits are on this shore,
She is not that golden key,
Yet she unlocks this door,

She is not that red rose,
Yet she is where this sonnet goes.

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