The Neurologist’s Sonnet

by A. Sea Herndon

The Neurologist’s Sonnet


Can these tears wash wrinkles that laughter makes

back through the eyes into the infant brain,

moisturize the synapse, not to re-uptake

the serotonin age has spent and drained?


Can endless longing pull and stretch apart

the fatty sheaths which newborns perfect lack,

demyelinate the milky flow, restart

the act where water pure and oil attract?


Can pacing back and forth in desperate loss

recalibrate the nervous pulsing mind,

each stepping foot a signet to emboss

time signatures more pleasant and refined?


The brain degenerates as we grow old,

so too the heart, and so we hope for soul.