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Night Thoughts

 

Winter and Old Age

           

I cast my thoughts into the night,

            through a window laced with frost.

I traced my dreams in cold starlight

            of hopes that now seem lost.

 

Snow lies freshly on the ground.

            I hear the night wind blow.

I tremble at this cheerless sound,

            in spite of fireside glow.

 

Old age is winter come at last,

            the hour glass nearly spent.

I remember things long since past,

            to the simplest, trifling event.

 

Oh, would that life be one long summer,

            and time would suddenly cease,

my days and nights no longer numbered,

            my mind then filled with peace.

 

And would that all my afflictions

            that old age and winter bring, 

as snow in sunlight's reflection

            be melted in the spring.

 

Now, by icy window glass,

            I see my image cloud.

The sudden flakes upon the grass

            cover it thickly as a shroud.

 

Finally, toward the hearth I turn

            to chase these thoughts way.

I pause to watch the fire burn

            and dream of a better day.

 

Middle Age Frustration

 

Cry, shout, but don't give up,

            your future is not through,

though brimming is the bitter cup

            that life has given you.

 

Middle age now stings you

            as you cope with common things

and contemplate the menu

            of what life so often brings.

 

In your moments of despair

            during solitary repast,

you must close that bill of fare

            and not dwell upon the past.

 

For somewhere in your dreams

            is a better, clearer day.

Along the way your plans and schemes

            have simply gone astray.

 

Your most recent agitations

            should be sloughed off with the rest.

Despite your middle age frustrations,

            you've done your very best.

 

Dreamer

 

Dreamer, open your eyes;

            the night has fled the day.

Tumble from that patch of sky

            where your past is tucked away.

 

Yonder as you slumbered,

            where the heart is always true,

beneath a canopy of umbrage

            sweet memories came to you.

 

But now your dream is over

            and the moments slip away.

You must leave your bed of clover

            and begin another day.

 

So do not weep at dawn light;

            your past can never die.

When you travel through the starlight

            to that special patch of sky.

 

Tonight in safest keeping

            where your dreams are tucked away,

you will journey while your sleeping

            to a land of endless day.

 

Forbidden Fruit

 

We shall not eat forbidden fruit

            if we pause to contemplate.

We know the nectar brings disrepute

            to the most exalted reprobate.

 

Temptation can strengthen and make us wise

            but too often makes us blind.

So often It’s cleverly disguised,

            polluting the soul, poisoning the mind.

 

Wise folk know the signs

            and how easy sin is bought.

We must shun the poison on the vines

            and let forbidden fruit just rot.

 

  

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