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Poem

 
"We know what we are, but know not what we may be."

                                 William Shakespeare, 1564-1616

I write poems of nature, love, loss, grief,
my sweet mentor Shakespeare brought back to life;
writing of past things that creep like a thief,
of morals, visions, virtue and life's strife.
William, my pen is haunted with old woes,
and knocking on my door, knocking-   is death;
help me to find the words to fight these foes,
I want joy- not moaning of each last breath.
Yes, will pen sweet jewels of nature's bliss,
my pen is your pen-   you are my muse guide;
words of faith, life and of love we will kiss;
Oh William, promise to bestow you pride.
In the end-  I will pen farewell, farewell;
and words like birds set free will ever dwell. 
__________________
January 11, 2023


Poetry/Sonnet/Life's Wavering Passge
Copyright Protected,ID 01/11/2023
All Rights Reserved, 2023, Constance La France

Written for the Standard contest, Shakespeare in 2023
sponsor, Anoucheka Gangabissoon, Judged 01/16/2023

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