Sonnet 21, Old Hiking Shoes
Sonnet 21, Old Hiking Shoes
(Spenserian Format)
Don't grieve for me here on the attic shelf;
we're joined infinitely as one, you said.
In an old moldy box now, by myself;
my place was there tucked well under your bed.
Don't grieve for me here within the dark dread;
the days and nights meld together as one.
Reflect on happy times, with stronger tread;
sweet dreams now reign as dead leaves in the sun.
Memories fade away after you're done;
the old just crumble away into dust.
Remember all the mountain trails we'd run?
Fear, you showed none, only honor and trust.
Don't grieve I'm here above your clarinet;
on the top shelf, right beside your train set.
Copyright © Ken Allan Dronsfield | Year Posted 2020
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