Sonnet 51

This morning finds me mute and so I write;
My spirit sult and sullen as the day.
Yet with just bounty, sadly still I gripe
Of futures dreamt that wretched time way laid.
Did I but choose or was my course fair given?
Did fate or chance scratch lines upon my chart?
Will fortunes rise or yet remain unleavened?
Upon whose stage do I now rant my part?
No gods or kings have given me behest-
If traveler such, my course remains unknown.
If actor, no drab lines have I rehearsed.
If fortunes fool, the die that’s cast seems done.
Should to this journey fate remain unkind,
The greater sadness leaves my love behind.

©Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

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