The Old Man and the Hill

The old man sat and looked up at the hill I think my work on earth, he said, is done My finest hour is over. It's been fun I've lived my life according to my will And felt the thrill of love and had my fill My little seeds are growing in the sun No need for racing now the race is won No need for ink or paper or a quill I've written my last lines of poetry He said, to no-one other than the skies A sonnet so it was, a eulogy Remember me (a poet never dies) The sun grew dim behind the hill and he Fell silent as the stars began to rise © Gail Foster 26th August 2018