Rust [sonnet]
Although I clearly feel how breath decays,
bright sparkles in my soul stave off the rust.
Yet while my bladelike mind is all ablaze
my ageing body crumbles down to dust.
Compare me to a sinking drowning b[u]oy
whose fingers grasp at air and light above.
The only comfort he can now enjoy
is his unwaned ability to love.
But though the clock ticks greyly into dusk
and episodic curtains will be drawn
this heap of cells is more than just a husk
for still in every moment I’m reborn!
The paradox I live defies belief;
my heart bursts to the full (though time’s a thief).
© Alan Morrison, 2014
The Naked Troubadour 