All English Sonnets
My forty springs are gone; half my life
Is buried and entombed in the past,
And tunes emanating from my life,
Are shallow like my breathing, fading fast.
Ah! I have come to understand, at last,
My chances have been taken, choices made-
And for this every die has been cast.
And time has come to sing the serenade.
And future seems a puppet on parade.
Connected to the past, and pre-empted
Are all my great ambitions . Every raid,
Which I had planned for this is unattempted.
But just beyond this grey and towering hill,
New vistas may be waiting for me still.