Sonnet 406

Now sixty years to heaven, plus a few,
Awash in bounty of those given there,
Hoping yet that many more accrue,
Quite knowing that four score is oft deemed fair.
Now thinking of those many morning suns
That blessed the passage of my journey’s course,
Of battles lost and triumphs that I’d won
And of scars earned for better or for worse;
Not shirking duty, I did bear the cost
Of iron will determined to succeed
And though the prize be won or sorely lost,
I proudly grasped my sword and took the lead.
I weathered every blow, bore every scorn…
And never rued the day that I was born.

©Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

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