Yet hope is such a fleeting thing
The reason birds in springtime singFishes try to swim upstream
Hope is but a foolish dream
Let life be as it was meant
Blessings lost and blessings sent
Fingers grasp the things they should
Longing for that which they could
Diminishing the pearl to be
For sand at first is what they see
Past and future each in place
Present surely can’t erase
Time should never kiss the pen
Scribing wishes now and then
Foresight gives the truth of growth
Hindsight will perfect the quote
Shackles form by way of if
Breaking free is just a gift
days are numbered
grains sublime
Even moments lost to rhyme.
Deo Volente
June 22, 2012
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