A Meandering Stream...
When young; we’re a force of nature;
looking about; our life is a dream;
as we get older; we become nomenclature;
our life; a meandering stream.
We were the winds and waves of power;
demanding to have our own way;
destined to become a wilted flower;
as yesterday morphed into today.
As waves, we stormed the beaches of life;
saturating destiny’s soil;
ebbing back out; encountering strife;
battered by life’s constant toil.
We were the flowers; planted in the garden;
in that distant kingdom above;
the rebellion, within us, sought a pardon;
we were God’s seeds of love.
We were the sunshine; and the rain;
in the winter, we became the snow;
although we find the time to complain;
destiny commanded we grow.
We rapidly washed over the rocks of ages;
enduring the waterfalls of sorrow;
ignoring the encouragement of the sages;
who whispered: “Wait for tomorrow.”
When young; we were a force of nature;
looking about; our life was a dream;
now, much older; we’ve become nomenclature;
our life; still, a meandering stream.
Monty 10/31/24. # 2,415