Perspective
When I was young, I'd wonder why
bad times would come to make me cry.
What had I done? What was the cause?
Were these the fruits of divine laws?
Now that I'm old, each day's a gift:
the good, the bad, the subtle rift.
My life flows swift towards end of time
and I am glad that they are mine.
Unfulfilled literary aspirations?.
Join us at the Weekend Writer's Retreat to share your work.
Or just stop by to appreciate others'.
bad times would come to make me cry.
What had I done? What was the cause?
Were these the fruits of divine laws?
Now that I'm old, each day's a gift:
the good, the bad, the subtle rift.
My life flows swift towards end of time
and I am glad that they are mine.
Unfulfilled literary aspirations?.
Join us at the Weekend Writer's Retreat to share your work.
Or just stop by to appreciate others'.
Perspective makes a big difference. Very nice poem.
ReplyDeleteBoy Meets Girl in 55
That's so nice!!
ReplyDeleteFunny how different a change in perspective makes things. ~ Calico Contemplations
ReplyDeleteI really enjoyed this, was uplifting..
ReplyDeleteRegards, Regina-
I'd still rather have more good days than bad, even as I get older and older.
ReplyDelete