This Life, oh it is far too brief.
That traitor, Time, steals like a thief,
but days are long when songbirds sing:
sweet sounds they share this sacred spring.
These hours, when golden rays feel warm
(cut short by sudden senseless storm)
still shine sublime inside my soul,
a memo crafted to console.
These lines, laid down before I pass,
(as dew drop pearls that grace the grass,)
will fade, like poet's toils and tears,
to leave sweet dreams of golden years.
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Author:
Blue-eyed Bolla (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: May 24th, 2025 07:36
- Comment from author about the poem: a poem of hope
- Category: Reflection
- Views: 4
- Users favorite of this poem: Cheeky Missy
Offline)
Comments2
Let hope arise!🕊️🙏🏻
A most beautiful rhyme about fading away with age. Wonderful wording
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