Sonnet VII

Let love not pass away as a flower
which yields perfume, yet wilts with aging grace
Fond memories should sweeten the hour
of one’s passing, and hold a sacred place

In the hearts of all who are left behind
“Ashes to ashes, dust to dust” they say
The coming of the reaper seems unkind
Yet love has conquered death along the way

O’ let love be free as the songbird’s flight
which makes it’s habitation in a nest
If peradventure, it goes beyond sight
it travels homeward bound as for to rest

If love should linger long and never fail
We will live on as time does tell it’s tale.