Sonnet (extract): Al Dente

          Alas! Thou art gone, my loyal, incisive friend,

          wrenched from thy bed like a boulder from the earth;

          thy mordant strength that succoured me from birth:

          I mourn thy loss, thy violent, bloody end.

          No fairy crown atones for thy decease.

          Thy life's work done, now may thou rest in peace.

                                                            

© Sheila Rogers

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