Wednesday, 12 September 2012
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
All rights reserved