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All English Sonnets

I often think of death and ask myself,
“How does it affect me, do I feel some fear?”
Or like illusive phantom or an elf,
It’s just a pensive presence in my cheer?

I find no lurking fear in my heart
And although my own end be very near,
I, unobstructed, live and play my part
And find no burden on my bubbling cheer.

“Then what is it?”, I question loud and clear,
“Why thoughts of death do pester me and you,
And what relation to our lives they bear;
And what resultant combinations brew?”

This is a lock, for which I have no key,
This is a wall, past which I can not see.

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