A Poem by:
Copyright shall at all times remain vested in the Author. No part of the work shall be used, reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the Author's express written consent.
The blue mirror of the ocean is as smooth as can be
as breakers line the fringe of the coastal periphery.
Such is life and love and the times we cannot rearrange.
We spend the hours of our youth like pocketfuls of change;
and one cannot be surprised that, with little life to kill,
we refuse to make a payment when time presents a bill.
You know, you know itís true; and you cannot deny the truth.
We cannot live to be old and still hold on to our youth.
We cannot live our lives as if we do not have a care
and expect to weep and wail when the silver streaks our hair.
For, life is dearly measured in a very fragile cup.
We must be very careful when we lift our portion up.
For, the mirror of the morning will never tell a lie.
Come mist or rain or shine, we all are born; and we will die.
Linda Marie Van Tassell
Copyright © 2001 K. Kianush, Art Arena