Brexit Sonnet No. 154 – ‘No More I Write’

 

Now I exit left, pursued by bear,
My words used up, and run from this I must.
What's done is done; I know not how we’ll fare,
But nothing will come of nothing, and in this I trust.
We know what we are, but know not what we may be,
As I await this be-all and the end-all,
Will this end well by closure of Act III,
Or will we drown in Tempest’s ugly squall?
So, no more I write. This scuppered isle
Will wait for Sonnets on another day.
With inky blots, I’ve reached this waymarked mile,
My pen now still; doth not my thoughts betray.
But if this curse of Brexit comes not to pass,
Just one more Sonnet from my muse I’ll ask.

© Keith Murphy