I humbly submit this iambic sonnet, dear reader, in celebration of All Hallows’ Eve and with respectful homage to the Bard, long dead, but whose spirit and language lives within us.

Time Portends: A Halloween Sonnet

Though gloomy and grave it may be to say,
No choice the end brings, surely we concede;
We are all merely tenants of the day,
The rent we pay, for we don’t hold the deed.
 
May we remain as young, the virile, strong;
Yet worn and faded photos do remind,
For every person, summer’s not for long;
Despite warm doubts, cold terms severely bind.
 
It all sounds dismal, murky, and too bleak;
Life’s prime torment, do we endure alone?
Or can a sober truth we bravely seek,
To know our lease will be inscribed on stone?
 
There’s freedom in accepting time portends,
Our lives demand untimely, certain, ends.