Annie Johnson
Sonnet To Life
I walk in silent twilight of my years
A vagrant wayfarer upon life’s path
A wispy shadow passing through life’s tears;
A lonely shade without an epitaph.
What does life give without receipt to be?
This strange enchanted bag of rictus smiles
Comes ‘round to haunt us like a raging sea;
A broken compass guiding endless miles.
It’s such a foolish thought, to be or not,
Marking the passing time that we must choose
To live or die or make a stand for naught
Or be the friend that no man wants to lose.
Life runs out in all its fickle phases
With laments or songs of endless praises.
No comments:
Post a Comment