Nor shall death brag thou wand’rest in his shade,
When in eternal lines to Time thou grow’st.
~ Shakespeare, from “Sonnet 18”
By any measure, time seeps in and through
us as if we each were an hour glass
ready to turn ourselves over and in-
side-out. That’s how to replay and re-
tread if we wish to do our spring cleaning.
But some of us shake sand and dust off shoes
to walk forward and skip replay, saying
unexamined lives are worth fighting for
and someone else can wash the dishes while
we speed onward Christian soldiers till death.
And in between we poets work with words,
line them up to test their sounds and meters,
record relationships–a search for truth—and pray our verse merits interpreters.
For Sumana's prompt
Copyright © 2015 S.L.Chast