The End of the Song

A Year of Sonnets — 067/365

Photo by Mohamed Nohassi on Unsplash

After Bob Seger.

Perhaps you lose the song that held your heart
in hopeful stasis through the weary years
or else the monsters learn to tear apart
the shields you’ve cast to ward away the fear
that dribbles on your scalp, the tender touch
turned cold a-suddenly, the spellwork fades
to gossamer and prayer. You’ve lost too much,
exhausting all your weregild from the Fates
and nothing now remains. Perhaps you stand
defiant at the very last reprise,
foresighted with a vision of the land
that calls your bones after this grave demise
or else you fade, a whimper and a wail
to end a story bards will never tell.