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.


Alan Combes   20/11/15stroke1

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Alan Combes