Trophy Anchor Poem by Jeffrey Tillery

Dog-eared books my father read
Monuments to souls long dead
Of love and war the stories told
Time will tell if gold or lead

Mocked by sonnets I admire
The rhyme and meter I aspire
Pass judgement how I spend my time
The poem, the line, the heart, the mire

Now I sit with pen in hand
And ponder verses much less grand
But no less earnest in my toil
My greatest foil the hourglass sand

Then through bleary thoughts I find
The perfect passage comes to mind
The trophy of the newfound rhyme
The anchor of the next blank line