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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