Once it stood in splendid state
beneath the rising sun;
as such, it did but radiate
with the strength of day begun.
.
Once it grew with luscious lust
as fresh as it was new.
But, desiccated (turned to dust)
its strident days were through.
.
Alas, nothing of its shape is left,
t’was buried grain by grain;
as if unsculptured (now bereft)
its past is but a stain.
.
Give not what would cause despair,
‘offer not the desert to a beggar's prayer’.
.
© Tim Grace, (WS-Sonnet 66: line 2) 11 April 2011
Revised: 5 November 2022
About the Creator
Tim Grace
A first impression has a lasting effect - it makes a notable difference. In a subtle way that’s who I am as a poet. A ‘first impression’ looking for the gentle ‘twist’ that draws attention to a novel observation.
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