A Petrarchan sonnet (ABBAABBA CDECDE) contemplating the steady flow of time and the wisdom it leaves behind.
The river flows into the endless sea,And leaves behind the quiet mountain glen.It carves a path for what is meant to be,Beyond the reach of all the striving men.We watch the gentle seasons slip away,Like golden leaves that fall upon the ground.We cannot beg the setting sun to stay,Or hold onto a single echo’s sound.Yet in this quiet passage of the years,We learn to cherish every fleeting grace.The laughter overcomes the falling tears,And courage finds a resting in its place.So let the rushing current pull the stream,For waking life is but a passing dream.
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