A Stroke Sonnet
A STROKE SONNET
A stroke in my youth was a glance through the slips
Or a delicate touch from a girl with sweet lips.
The stroke of midnight brought a change of intent
And a stroke of good fortune was a welcome event.
Brush strokes, pen strokes, in swimming too,
A stroke was something you wanted to do.
The only association of a stroke with pain
Was the head delivering six strokes of the cane.
Until that day a stroke was not to be feared,
Twas gentle and soothing like stroking a beard.
Until that day when my brain blew apart
As a bullet of blood was fired from my heart.
A stroke seemed then a most inappropriate word;
Blast, blitz or tsunami I would have preferred.