New Year’s Sonnet
On days like this one sadly ponders how
Fragile becomes our immortality.
These dusks that hurry dawns for us avow
That even grave ends in banality.
My innuendo shouts to seize the fruit
And squeeze until the breeze of life is out,
Which never gives up, but since time must scoot
You have to shut it inside or it’ll sprout
And give another fruit to someone’s grace.
Vivacious wheel of esse goes at will
Abandons those who fail to keep its pace.
It only offers rush, no peace, no frill.
Yet I admit it is worth every breath
Each blink is infinite in spite of death.
photo in the frame: Jerzy Bednarski