Sonnet 472

Time eats away the body as a blight,
Devouring man’s corporal legacy;
Eroding strength and making day his night
Til’ he reposes to eternity.
What then to say but he was flesh and blood,
Mere mortal clay unto the earth returned;
Here heaven blessed, he did but what he could
And of that reach, his gloried quest lay spurned;
Damned to that cavernous cave as feast for grubs,
Corporeal worth saponified to slime,
Vanquished by vermin, ah, now there’s the rub,
All proffered prayers quite mired well in grime.
Yet of this span though it be short or long,
You are my hope and your sweet love my song.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

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