"Attend, my dear old friend" I said to him;
This grumbling, wistful man so stained with ink,
"Your scornful view on things is far too grim;
The ship you are on board is bound to sink."
He raised his almond eyes and looked at me;
Such vast and bitter pools of smothered sparks,
"You know quite well how I detest the sea."
Forever one to spout his snide remarks,
He sighed at last, a deep and tortured sound,
"Indeed today might be my very last;
If so; should I not stand and hold my ground?
The line is sadly none but mine to cast."
That day he died, my friend the clerk;
Upon his face, the same old smirk.



Sonnet by Thomas Selnes
Read 1100 times
Written on 2006-07-26 at 00:31

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