In life, what choices seem to crowd the way
and opportunities abound. Brief time
sheds hours and minutes come what may,
while bells for babes and brides and bodies chime.
To work or rest? To wander or remain?
With dazzling chance we dance throughout the night.
And glowing morning sparkles through the rain,
to fill the new found dawn with dewy light.
Yet none can guarantee a day of sun,
if pain and lack of hope are all we see.
When chance dissolves - through impotence undone,
the choice becomes to be or not to be.
Though neither satisfies yet both apply.
In truth I walk and breathe and yet I die.
Words Shakespeare would have been proud to write.
ReplyDeleteSue,
ReplyDeleteNice poem, dont let it become a self fulfilling prophecy though! Keep the hope.
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A beautiful poem Sue.
ReplyDeleteSue...I don't do wistful, but I might consider it, if you carry on like this. :-)
ReplyDeleteLol. Thanks my UKPR Blues!!
ReplyDeleteYou're very kind to support me like this, thanks. xx
Eoin and Pam too of course.