Immortal Ode

Immortal Ode

Reasons why aren’t ours to know,
when fragile seeds of fate are sown.
We struggle through our lives of woe,
yet dream of Heaven, even so.

My summer days lazed long and slow,
they race by now like sleeting snow.
And, all too soon, I’ll rest below,
where conscious streams no longer flow.

Fine words in lines, arranged by row,
I seek to craft like Keats or Poe,
When ashes swirl and cold winds blow,
these words are all I’ve left to show.

Author's note: ▼

12 lines, entered in the November 2021 round of the Test Your Poetry contest

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