Assurance
This too shall pass, this latest rite
of parenthood, a lengthy night
of high-school tributes, just before
commencement. Dinner done, I pore
over the program, but the sight
of more than sixty names makes light
of early exit, and soon spite
makes me suspect the age-old lore,
“This too shall pass.”
If only. Boredom picks a fight
with patience as words true or trite
provoke applause from most, a snore
from some; desperate, I implore
heaven for help, hear from that height,
“This too shall pass.”
by Jane Blanchard, first published in Time of Singing.
Editor’s Note: Rhyme and repetition are the characteristics of a rondeau. In this poem, the subject matter and form are perfectly complimentary. Also, this poem makes me smile.
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