Creative fun in
the palm of your hand.
Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/1782927
Rated: E · Poetry · Opinion · #1782927
An attempt at a sonnet aimed at grumpy old people
Why when decreed at last we come of age
when there is less in front than there is passed,
do grasping hands pause to turn a sullen page
afraid the rising dawn will be the last?
Confounded eyes reflect hues of colour lost
bent ever downward to ponder weary feet,
shuffling a path through a reproachful mist; 
a raging storm to sink a youthful fleet.
Think not of age as a cruel brigands curse
raise your eyes, look upon horizons sky
and recall your life’s poem verse by verse;
colours beyond the mist of a fading eye.
Precious life not made bitter by damaged pride,
but sweeter lived through the child inside.
© Copyright 2011 Barnaby Aloysius (barnaby3009 at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
Writing.Com, its affiliates and syndicates have been granted non-exclusive rights to display this work.
Log in to Leave Feedback
Not a Member?
Signup right now, for free!
All accounts include:
*Bullet* FREE Email @Writing.Com!
*Bullet* FREE Portfolio Services!
Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/1782927