Reckless Sonnet

I am not sure I like sonnets 

She says

But I like to make a little sound

Or song

We have been left behind 

I think

The dusk creeps upon us

We wrap ourselves in towels 

And blankets 

Silently cry

Whirl in circles

Our own dance 

We think of the times

When the sand seeped through our toes

We cannot unlike these times 

Perhaps we argued

Perhaps we sang 

Always we found ourselves

A little strange

Both sapling

And grown tree 

When we are close to the wire

She sucks her thumb

And if she does

I do too

This is our reckless sonnet

Forever it will sing 

And sway.