The gilded game of life is finite;
All
too soon it comes to end,
And
the promise on tomorrow
Holds
no faithful guarantee.
But
this affords no reason for
Forsaking
fondest dreams. There are
Far
too many wondrous episodes
The
mind cannot foresee.
Fortune
pales without tomorrow’s pledge of
Life,
in all its finery,
That
promenades the passageways
Of
fondly fashioned destiny.
And
brave imagination grows its promise
Of
a hope-filled fate
Where
splendid fruitful gardens of desire
Patiently
await.
Disquiet
for the future
Is
adept at stealing joy away,
But
believing in tomorrow is no reason
To
forsake today.
So,
here’s a plan: to make a plan,
To
plead, pilfer or borrow,
To
face the trials of today
Believing
in tomorrow.
No comments:
Post a Comment