The last sonnet often remains undone
The last word would often remain unsaid
The last song to this day remains unsung
Predators from previous wars have fled
What remains undone will never be done
What remains unsettled won’t be settled
A sonnet undone is undone for fun
An unfinished poem won’t earn medals
An unfinished prince will always be heir
An unfinished athlete will be second
An unfinished plane will never touch air
An unfinished painting will not compare
The sonnet is done, done by nature
The battle won, in poetry’s favor.
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