(c) 2017 Edward York
The old lighthouse stood on the shoreline,
Just resting on the rim.
The glass had yellowed from the years,
Its light long since gone dim.
The outside body was weathered,
From years of storms and sea.
But to be completely honest,
It was a little bit like me.
So many ships had passed on by it,
In all the years in which it stood.
The only thing left that\'s visible,
Is weathered stone and wood.
For so many years it was a beacon,
Its light shown out into the dark,
And now the grounds around it,
Has been turned into a park.
They say its aged with character,
With weathered lines that you can trace.
It still stands proud from where it\'s been,
With all the wrinkles on its face.
So please reserve your judgment,
For things not shiny new,
Cause someday in the future,
You may be like the lighthouse too.