James Little | Friday, 18 March 2022 | Print
James Little
Yes, I have lived quite long enough to see life metamorphose segments to its whole,
mutating smiling destinies from wee to grand, from out my own porthole.
The thin back streets of yesteryear
light sweet reminding paths
for wiser men to safely walk,
and fools to glibly talk.
New day tomorrow, is it ever made?
Our praise of yore makes time return,
but beauty than in future oft will fade.
So what we know about today
and yearn next dawn to be,
we’ll see as grim charade of downsized expectations and debris;
discover each new age creep
up behind just like a lion in hunt
to drop down on us blessings-and its claws, the facts of life,
ne’er mind our wont.
We’ll understand tomorrows are but dreams of yesterdays,
because it’s in God’s script for man-
Last scene, Act III, and then applause;
He knows our ways.
.
Copyright@James Little
Posted 10:30 am | Friday, 18 March 2022
globalpoetandpoetry.com | Faruk Ahmed Roni
