Sonnet- Xiii Poem by Sherwin Ilagan

We may regret the passing of each day
‘Cause yesterday won't be returning soon—
As thou shalt cast the ledger of my stay,
For what thou felt; was dealt 'far crescent moon.
My knowledge of my youth was with thy past,
For I shall keep it deep inside mine urn,
When there's no chance to fill an empty glass?
From living memories of my sojourn:
To realize the things that have been told,
To contemplate with hopeful will to live,
To entertain the calling of thy fold,
‘Tis treason for the heart; if won't believe.
The parchment leads me thro' the one you lit,
Emancipate from dust to live by wit.