Sonnet 481

And when my arms shall cradle you the last
With love’s bright fire fading from your eyes,
When quaking grief shall tell that you have passed,
Stern bells will peal their thunder to the skies.
Gaunt birds will stand stiff silent mute in prayer
While frozen sunshine shadows yet the ground;
 Life’s scented incense staling on the air
And on each face dull sallow sadness found.
So ends a life as many have before,
Yet none so precious as that which I hold,
No words of praise could ever here say more,
Or frame the essence of your story told.
While lives are often tallied great or small,
By love’s sweet measure, yours shall best them all.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

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