Love the labour of my love
Death seizing me one day, mourn me no more,
Let me leave this vain world free from all woes,
Let me go seasons as have from this shore,
And bid goodbye to my soul as it goes.
Quiet a leaf gets born, gets yellowed gray,
No reason why man be so noisiest--
Aloud when born one uneventful day…
Loud again when goes, what a grumbling guest!
And so if ye happen to read these lines,
Life-less when I lie to disintegrate,
Let me leave ‘pon this place no telltale signs,
Let all of my memories dissipate.
Fains if one so chooses to love my pen,
O love the labour of my love if can.
____________________
Sonnet | 12.11.2008 | death, love, memories, pen, poet
Note: This sonnet talks about how a poet wants to be remembered when he dies— like a passing season that goes, no fuss. If at all, love and remember ‘my poems’, more than me.
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