And I fear still

I seldom fear that I may cease to be Well ere the pen picks up my musing mind, That, the seeds sowed may never get to grow, I intend not merely fair fruits to find. Fair, if a few fragrant flowers they bear, If plants sowed stay tender a tad longer Without a continual nourishing care, And hope, my passion keeps up its fervour. But then, I wish when time’s ‘pon me to leave, My soul carries deep-set desire to pen, That, a magic spell inspires me one eve, On an unknown land to carry on, then, Till I plant unsowed seeds stirring in mind, Or else, my pen devoid of ink does find. ________________________________________ Sonnet |09.06.2024| poet, poetry, desire