Sonnet #311

A wise man told me to live for work

Never kill time, because my will

To rise up and make my mark fills

Me up and time’s shadow, death, always smirks

But I waste what I want, and encourage the same

Your work will falter, too, and when it does

It won’t matter whether you were in the throes

Of genius, driven and strong, or if your quiet name

Relaxed into ease and infamy. Diadems drop

As wise women sing, and our walk sends

Every moments’ step into a virgin snowfall, so stop,

Drink the wine, and ease into a fine, cool autumn

be kind enough to time and death that when it is the when

You can laugh and have a brandy with them