Make Hay While Sun Shines

MAKE HAY WHILE SUN SHINES

As hair divides fast living from last groan,
and hare and rarebit hop like time ahead,
both they and Man dark glasses wear, unknown
is future near and far past's story sped.
What funny seems through bunny's glasses spread
from brow to brow now may, tomorrow blown,
reveal dreams' themes found fragile, few postpone
fate's finger, what was written must be read.
Begun in fun, life filters sun; strife, dread,
rubs gilt off fabled gingerbread, strikes stone
clover's four leaves, leaves grieving fallen throne,
with pride's ride set aside, forgotten, fled.
The moral of this simple sonnet's seen:
make hay while sun still shines, seek pastures green.

5 September 2009
robi03_1907_robi03_0000 SXX_DJZ

poem by Jonathan Robin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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