Sonnet III

A well of wealth ‘neath shallow surface lies

Where plunges pail in search of hidden gold.

Yet none can venture there without goodbyes

To victim’s path that leaves us numbed and cold.

And thus life’s sad way have I left behind

With all its holes and ruts that didst confound,

And forward trot a road that’s more refined,

That in the end makes life far more profound.

For tempted though I am to blame the past

And lean upon my pain as if a crutch,

Such misery, forsooth, can never last —

It’s oh, so yesterday and out of touch.

And living in the moment, truth be told,

Is where we each will find our hidden gold.




See you anon in Poet’s Paddock …


Shakespeare “The Equine”


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