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 on eternity.
What then to say but he was flesh and blood,
Mere mortal clay unto the earth returned;
Here heaven stressed, he did but what he could
And of that reach, his gloried quest lay spurned;
Damned to that cavernous cave as feast for grubs,
His earthly 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.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s