Sonnet 21: When we two meet

I don’t know when we’ll meet: few months, a year,

or in another life with endless mirth.

I don’t know where we’ll meet: our homeland dear,

some foreign soil, or anywhere on earth.

I don’t know how once more we two shall meet:

across the distance or just face to face.

I don’t know what to say when we two greet,

though countless times I thought through ev’ry case.

I do know why in such haste I must seek

you, not because I heard Time’s cold claws close

the gates of hope, but fear my nerve may peak

my prime that leaves this husk regrets and woes.

I dread not death. But when I turn to dust,

I dread that none shall praise you fair and just.

2017/1/29