Sonnet 265

What grace shall mark the end of ripened time,
Worn dreams, old tales and fading memories
Of glory days where youth once reigned sublime,
Chain shackled now by base infirmity?
The body frail still bears the timid mind
Back to the shores of seas too broad to sail
Where once tall ships did rail against the wind
And seething prows fought on, too proud to fail.
There on strange beaches, sword and spear and stone
Mocked battle cries ‘midst arrows thick as rain
As to those ramparts charged brave hearts among
That brotherhood that feared not death or pain.
The warrior stands though bent and chopped by years,
His gaze defiant, eyes bereft of tears.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

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