Treasure Island

Patti Masterman


Asymmetrical Sonnet


For the sake of our beloveds, we fight
Against death, though the fight left within us
Has no real heft, to court the fading light-
We'd rather leave, than face the fuss.

The spark left in our beings, just enough
To blink our eyes, squeeze their hand, assure
That of lifes rare treasure, we've had enough
And now it holds for us little allure.

After eighty years, we have our doubts
We'll leave at all, and likely molder neath
The ground, forcing more daisies above out,
So to them, our near and dearest, we ‘queath

A plot of soil, long days of sun, ceaseless toil-
As earth roils through her seasons: yea, we, too, roil.

Submitted: Monday, February 27, 2012
Edited: Tuesday, February 28, 2012
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