A sonnet has a highly structured set of rules. Meter, rhyme scheme, length are all regulated. I tried to stay as close to those rules as I could in describing our Friday night.
Not For Lack Of Trying
The town is small, but the crowd was large, for us,
For us to be out side. Oh how we looked.
With dancers on tables we made a fuss
Yet try as we may not a one was booked.
Cars were stopped but no drunks were found. I tried
but to no avail. A litterbug said,
"Who me?" when told his friend should be his guide.
"Keep our town tidy and don't lose your head."
A soldier was drunk, a sailor was drunk
They held hands as they walked towards their houses.
Stay calm, be nice, and go back to your bunk.
Don't talk; don't speak but be quiet like mouses.
I tried but the crowd in my town was dying.
No lock ups, but not for lack of trying.
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