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Winter and Old Age
I
cast my thoughts into the night,
through
a window laced with frost.
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.
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,
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.