Sonnet 556

As morning sun shall rise, so shall it set

To mete again a sweet or bitter day

And so once surely gone, it rises yet

To mark of time in single candled ways.

So measured life in darkness and in light

Plays out in puppet shadows on a wall

As if by some mischievous manus sleight

Designed to much amuse, or yet to gall.

From golden sconce forever hope is shone

So life is bourn amidst quotidian dreams,

Penumbra shadows that do wax and wane;

A trite ombromanie upon a screen.

There still we dance beneath that ageless sun

As shadows prance ‘til darkest night shall come.

Loubert S Suddaby poems