Sonnet 162

As I am now, so too you yet shall be;
Child of life and vigor that knows no bounds;
Time is mendacious and all eyes shall see,
That time but lends the beauty it endows.
So make the most of your brief given span
Before black covetous time recalls his loan;
And wring from life all sweetness that you can-
The grave should be the place where we atone;
And look upon each morning as a gift,
Where it be bright or darkened there with gloom
Each breath, the air that gives your wings fair lift
And on these wings, the great wide world to roam;
And when returned to search these aging eyes,
Look for those truths that jealous time has tried.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

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