Sonnet Ten

Sonnet Number Ten

Last night, I kissed my son upon his head.

As I’ve done near thirty years, man and boy

I kissed my father, too, yet now he’s dead.

Now, ‘tis my son who fills my heart with joy.

There are many ways to grieve, say the books

Some find themselves well-dried out from their tears

Some run, and hope their mourn doth overlook,

I believe one leans in, to face the fear.

Soon I will die, and you, and you, and you.

We hope that those behind will say good things.

Fain live life well, and all those round who knew,

Will sing your praises, and true mem’ries cling.

So I will always kiss my son upon his head

He’s once removed from me and my last bed.

-David L. Stanley. February 2019