The Puzzler - Sonnet 18

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There is, within a cottage down the street,

A homely little office. One lamp soothes

The worn-out corners of the rustic room

And brightens up the road beneath my feet.

A man, whose countenance I can’t discern

Through distance and his glassy windowpane,

Is always seen there, whether moon or rain

Outside, hunched over in his chair in turn,

Perhaps reflecting on a life well-lived,

Surrounded by the wisdom duly gained,

Or trapped in loneliness that time has stained

With one more memory to be outlived.

And as the setting sun will rise again,

So will the man be there, till sleep may end.

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